Minor Alterations
by LittleChime
Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path. Honorshipping, or Morty x Falkner. Warnings: slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.
1. Prologue

Minor Alterations  
Prologue

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Well, here we are. My first fic posted here! All I ask is that you read the warnings above, (don't like, don't read and all that, there's probably stuff more suited to your tastes elsewhere). Thank you! XD

* * *

"Another year!" Whitney raised her glass, grinning widely. Admittedly it was only lemonade, but the teenager was crazy enough without being under the influence of anything stronger than sugar. Lucky for her, she had Morty with her; at least she wouldn't be getting lost and wandering the streets after dark again. Morty knew Goldenrod better than she did, and it wasn't even his town.

"Another year," he echoed obediently, and the sound of clinking glasses rang across the bar as a number of random drunks also took up on the toast; most probably as an excuse to quickly down what was in their glasses and order another beer. One guy got confused and thought it was January already, before mumbling something about his wife and staggering out of the door. Morty smiled - the start of the new gym calendar always put him in a great mood. "It'll be the best one yet. Now stop confusing the locals and drink your lemonade."

Everyone was in good spirits. The annual meeting for the Johto Gym Leaders had been hosted in Goldenrod that year, and as far as just about everyone was concerned, that was a very good thing indeed. The meeting itself had been as mundane as usual; just a bunch of smart-looking officials reeling off any new information about the League, and then everyone's stock of badges had been replenished before they were dismissed. The whole thing had taken roughly just over an hour, and then there had been plenty of time afterwards to relax and soak up the atmosphere.

Being Goldenrod, that had meant getting lost in the nightlife. It wasn't Johto's biggest city without reason; it was a real hub for entertainment and general goings-on. Whitney had chosen this place as somewhere to wind down - or, at least, that had been the idea. It was more raucous than relaxing.

"I thought you said it was usually quiet in here?" Morty asked loudly, having to raise his voice to be heard over the noise.

Whitney shrugged. "I guess having a bunch of Gym Leaders walking through must have attracted the crowds." She didn't seem bothered in the slightest - still smiling cheerfully and sipping her drink. Either she was completely oblivious or she was just having too good a time to care; thankfully for her and Bugsy, a quick word with the manager had given them underhanded permission to remain on the premises even when it got dark - usually, minors would have been kicked out by now.

"Um, so…" Jasmine, Olivine's Gym Leader, piped up from the other side of Whitney, "It isn't always this… uh…" she trailed off, stuck for words.

"Rowdy?" suggested Morty. "Loud? Potentially dangerous?"

"Ah… I was going to say 'lively'…" Jasmine finished and fell silent, looking nervously about her. She seemed jumpy, but a nice girl all the same; they had all been having professional contact as Gym Leaders since the beginning, but the only one Morty was on personal terms with was Whitney, he didn't know the others very well. It was sometimes difficult to judge a person solely on their conduct on one night out of the entire year.

He'd got the guy sitting a few tables down from them down quite well, though.

Falkner. Bird Trainer. Violet City. That was just about all he knew _officially_, but the way he hadn't moved from his seat for the last two hours and had been nursing the same glass ever since he got there… that said a lot. He hadn't even spoken to anyone, and he had Pryce and Clair chatting to his left; it wouldn't have been too hard to involve himself in a little polite conversation at least.

Morty frowned. Maybe he should go over and talk to him-

"What's with that Hawkner guy?" Whitney wondered out loud, following Morty's line of sight. She couldn't get Falkner's name right no matter how many times she'd been corrected, so Morty just left her to it. She cocked her head to the side in thought. "He's either shy or just plain rude."

Morty glanced at the empty seat across the table from them. "We could ask him over," he suggested after a moment of thought.

Whitney frowned. "Are you kidding? To be honest," she winced and twirled a strand of red hair through her fingers, "he kinda freaks me out."

He poked her in the side and stuck out his tongue. "_You _kinda freaked _me _out when we first met. And you turned out to be okay when you want to be."

"'When I _want _to be'?" she demanded in mock-anger, and he patted her on the head. She was just like the little sister he'd never had. Whitney gave in, leaning back in her seat and bringing the brightly-coloured drinking straw to her mouth again. "Fine. Go on then - see if he wants to join us. Might turn out to be pretty cool, I guess."

"You never know," Morty replied, before standing up and approaching the bar again; walking past Falkner's table in the process. He noticed the blue-haired man's empty glass, and had an idea. He stopped next to Falkner and cleared his throat.

"Hey, uh - Falkner."

Falkner flinched and looked up at him, surprised. "…Oh," he said, after regaining his composure. "Hi." He didn't sound incredibly enthusiastic.

"You, erm…" Morty made a vague gesture with hands as he tried to get his words out; Falkner's eyes were fixed questioningly on his own, and it made him feel a little uneasy somehow. "You want another drink?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Falkner replied politely, and Morty resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead. He decided to go with honesty.

"Look, me and Whit over there," he gestured to where Whitney was cheekily waggling her fingers at the two of them, watching them intently over her lemonade, "we were just wondering whether you'd wanna come and sit with us." He thought for a moment, and then added, "It's probably gonna be another year before we all run into each other like this again, so might as well make the most of it."

Falkner looked at him again - just _looked _at him - and Morty could practically _see _the cogs turning inside his head. He wasn't a mind reader, (far from it - his 'gift' extended to being able to sense the presence of others, even when they couldn't be physically seen), but he knew how this must look. Like they were taking pity on him.

"I'm sorry," Falkner murmured, turning back to the puddle of liquid left in the bottom of his glass. "You must have misunderstood me - I'm not like that."

"…Not like what?" Morty asked, confused. Then - _oh. _Right. It seemed that his relationship with Eusine was common knowledge. "Not like me, you mean?" he tried, his tone edging on disbelief, and Falkner gave a slow nod. Morty held up his hands, hurrying to correct himself, "I wasn't asking you - no, not like _that, _I have a boyfriend -you just looked like you could use some company, and me and Whitney were thinking that maybe-"

"Morty." Falkner cut him off, one palm raised. He gave a small, barely-there smile. "It's alright. It doesn't matter." Morty shut his mouth, looking down at his feet. He hated it when things like this happened - he was forever making an idiot of himself. Usually he could just shrug it off with a joke, but there was something about Falkner that put him on edge. No wonder no one else bothered to try and talk to the guy.

Falkner cleared his throat when Morty didn't say anything else. "I'd like to be left alone, if that's okay?"

Morty blinked. "Um, yeah…" he said slowly, humiliated and a little taken aback, "of course it is… I'll see you around."

He felt oddly numb as he turned back to the bar, walking over and squeezing himself in between a woman who looked like she had fallen asleep where she sat, and a guy who was loudly trying to start a fight with someone else. He waited for the bartender to get round to him, and stared resolutely forwards.

"_-orty!" _he heard, barely audible over the din. He turned, to see Whitney shooting him confused looks, and blatantly mouthing 'what happened?' at him. Morty shook his head, shrugging his shoulder to indicate that he didn't know, and turned back to the bar.

"What can I get you, sweetie?" the girl behind the bar asked, a little flushed from the heat and all the running around she had had to do. She seemed upbeat, though - Morty imagined the profits from that night would be huge for the 'quiet little bar on the corner' Whitney had insisted they go to.

"Ah…" Morty shrugged noncommittally, "you decide. Something strong."

The girl smiled sympathetically. "Rough night? Don't worry - we all have them from time to time. Coming right up…"

That night was the first time Morty had spoken to Falkner, and things hadn't gotten off to what could be called a brilliant start. Little were either of them aware of the changes that the next time would bring; even if they would have to wait another year before their paths crossed again.

In the meantime, Morty handed over the money and swallowed a mouthful of the drink pushed in front of him - wincing at the bitter taste as it slid down his throat - and tried to think nothing more of ungrateful jerks or what Whitney would say once he returned to the table.


	2. One

Minor Alterations  
Chapter One

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Here's a proper chapter for you! Uh, if I could just point out the warnings again - please take note before you read. Just to make sure no one walks into anything they're not comfortable with! Thanks very much. :)

* * *

As far as Morty was concerned, the whole thing started with the damned invitation - if you went back, way back past all the _weird _stuff that had happened, the letter would be the stopping point; just poking innocently through the mail slot in Morty's door. For all the world, it had looked to be just another white envelope, but on closer inspection, the postmark in the top right-hand corner clearly read 'BLACKTHORN'.

Eusine frowned. "Oh, you, er… you have a letter." He plucked it from the door and turned it over thoughtfully in his hands, taking note of the print on the front. "Blackthorn. Maybe it's from Clara?"

"It's Clair," Morty corrected, still rooted in the hallway. His expression was strangely reminiscent of that of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, and not because of the letter, either.

"Clair - right, of course." Eusine smiled good-naturedly; a smile that completely contradicted the seriousness of the situation, in Morty's eyes at least.

New troubles often begin when the subject is still in the throes of old ones. In this case, the old problem was on its way out of the door; backpack full of miscellaneous stuff slung over one shoulder and a kind of sadness in its eyes.

"Eusine," Morty said, still feeling slightly ridiculous since he was still wearing his pyjamas, "this is really happening?" Eusine shook his head, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. "You don't have to leave - we can work something out. We always do."

The backpack was full of various items of clothing, books and other stuff Eusine often brought with him and forgot to take back. For the past year and a half he had 'lived' with Morty; nothing official, but he spent enough time there to be able to call the place home. Now it seemed it was all over. "I think we're a little past that, Morty. _I'm _a little past that."

"How so?"

Eusine sighed, and ran a hand down his face. "This isn't how it was supposed to _go…_" he mumbled, before taking a deep breath and visibly regaining his composure. "I was going to explain to you-"

"It looks to me like you were just sneaking off…" Morty tried not to show how much he stung, but the hurt was written across his face and he knew it. He'd never been good at disguising his feelings.

"Standing in the hallway at six in the morning isn't the right time to be doing this!" Eusine shook his head again and his words spilled out, rushed, "I needed to get going, 'cause I have a ship to catch. Suicune-"

"_Ah," _cut in Morty, packing a ridiculous amount of meaning into one little word. Not even that; it was more of a _sound _of recognition than anything else, but they both knew _exactly _what it meant.

"Look, I know this must sound bad… really bad… but I have good reasoning." Eusine paused, as if bracing himself. "I'm going to Kanto." When Morty frowned and opened his mouth to respond, Eusine hurried to explain, "It's not fair on you. That's why I'm doing this - it's my dream to pursue Suicune. I've just been dragging you along with me this entire time, and it isn't right."

"So you're breaking up with me?" Morty hated that phrase. It made him sound weak, which he certainly wasn't. His jaw was set, and he stared the other man down, watching as Eusine fumbled awkwardly with his hands. Morty noticed that the other man was still holding the letter.

"I had _hoped_," Eusine began, "that we could call it a 'mutual understanding'."

_There's nothing mutual about it, _thought Morty sourly, but remained silent.

"Mort…" Eusine closed the distance between them with two steps, and put a hand on Morty's shoulder. "You know I love you - that's why I have to do this. I care about you too much."

Morty's mouth twitched upwards at the corners into a humourless smirk. "Too much to leave me behind while you chase Suicune to Kanto," he said dully, and Eusine gave a slow nod.

"You understand," he said, and gripped Morty's shoulder a little tighter. He looked directly into his eyes. "Take care of yourself, okay? Maybe we can… meet up sometime, you know… when I get back."

"Yes. Maybe."

Eusine sighed at the kicked-puppy look. "Come here, you…" Morty was folded into a quick embrace; he stood there and let himself be hugged, his chin resting on Eusine's shoulder. The envelope still clutched in Eusine's fingers crinkled next to his ear. "You know, I think we're always going to be close, you and me - as friends or otherwise. It'll be better this way, I know it will."

Morty closed his eyes and thought of the years they went back, as well as the two they had spent as something of an item, and the one and a half during which he had always woken up to Eusine lying next to him. He'd been seeing the signs for a while; Eusine was restless and Morty knew it, and Suicune was an itch that Eusine just had to scratch. It was like a compulsion.

"I'm going to miss the boat," Eusine said gently, detaching himself from Morty. "This is… well, goodbye for now, I suppose."

"Yeah," Morty murmured. _'Yeah'. _Eusine was leaving and all he could manage was _'yeah'_. There was nothing he could say to stop it from happening. Eusine turned for the door, and Morty _knew _- that was that. All over and done with. Eusine was leaving, and-

"Morty?" Morty looked up, feeling some semblance of hope rising in his chest, and found that Eusine was holding out the envelope. "Sorry - your letter."

"…Oh." He reached out and took it, not bothering to give it even a glance. "Thanks," he said, and Eusine held up his hand in a small goodbye, and let himself out. The door clicked as it closed behind him; obscenely loud in the silence. Morty could hear Eusine's footsteps as he walked off down the path.

That was it. That was really it. Morty couldn't believe it. He exhaled a long, slightly shaky breath; still staring at the door.

It hurt. The last time he had been ditched, it had been by a girl called Sarah back when he was twelve. There had been a note left on his desk before class; they had been together for a week, and then she had decided she had had enough, and had written a brief message telling him that it was over - on paper with smiley-faces in the margin, no less. It had turned out that she liked someone else.

Still, that had been holding hands and sharing his chocolate with her at break; this was… slightly more important than any crush. He had liked her - he had asked her out because he _thought her dress was pretty_, for goodness sake - but what he had with Eusine was something completely different. Eusine had helped him through the struggle with his sexuality, and he had always been there for Eusine in return. They'd been good together.

Morty loved him. That was it, in simple terms. Easy as that.

He felt… blank. And oddly like he needed a drink - preferably something strong and suitably numbing.

The letter felt heavy in Morty's hand now, and he finally lifted it to examine it himself. Eusine was right - it was marked as Blackthorn, his address written in neat, slightly slanted script, and most likely from Clair because of it. Leader business, probably. He really wasn't in the mood to be reading it; wasn't in the mood to be doing anything at all, really. Save maybe mope around a bit and feel sorry for himself.

There was a long pause.

He ripped open the letter. Maybe it would distract him for all of five minutes while he worked out what was going on. It would be worth it. He pulled out the paper, unfolding it, and cast a quick eye over the print.

"Huh," he muttered to himself. "I'd completely forgotten." He'd have to pack a bag, let the Gym Trainers know he was headed out early in the morning, organise transport… He silently cursed the postal service, walked through to the living room, and unceremoniously flopped face-down onto the couch.

Gengar rolled its eyes, and walked through the wall into the next room.

* * *

Morty might not have been prepared, but Falkner most certainly was. So much so, he wasn't even thinking about it - _his _letter sat, still unopened, on the mantelpiece; completely and utterly ignored. Hoothoot sat next to it; its round, reddish eyes disinterestedly glancing back at Falkner every so often, as if thinking, _'Damn, humans are weird…'_

If only it knew the half of it. Innocence really _was _bliss, after all.

Falkner's eyes were glued to the television screen; his lids at half-mast and his cheeks flushed a dull red. One hand was sunk into the front of his boxers, moving rapidly, _hurriedly _over his-

He stopped his hand.

"…Dammit." Falkner exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the telltale drop in his pulse that _always _happened just lately. He glared at the two people on the screen - still noisily copulating against what appeared to be the wall of an subway station - as if the whole problem was their fault. The woman's head was thrown back, and he swallowed at the sight of her; the curve of her neck, her shoulder…

It just wasn't working. He'd probably gone and broken himself somehow; a combination of sexual frustration and just a bit of loneliness (though he'd never come to terms with _that _one, not really) had resulted in a lot of dedicated 'personal time', and a growing collection of DVDs just like the one playing. With a heavy sigh, Falkner got to his feet and readjusted his underwear, walking over to the television to press the eject button.

The plastic case containing the disk was slid back under the sofa to join the others, and Falkner bit his lip guiltily as he pushed them right to the back. His personal shame; they did next to nothing for him and it always ended like this, but still he kept them. He'd never quite figure that one out; just another paradox to add to his list.

Hoothoot was looking at him; its head cocked to one side. It's gaze burned into the back of his head, and he spun around to face it.

"What?" he demanded, flustered and more than a little disgruntled, and the Pokémon cast a matching look in his direction and flew from its perch. Falkner watched it flutter off into another room, and sighed. Maybe all that stuff researchers said about Pokémon becoming increasingly like their masters was true?

There was a feather left behind on the mantelpiece; right next to the white letter Falkner had tossed on there a few days ago, when it had come through the mail. He thought of the packed bag sitting in the hallway (he'd just thrown some things together when the letter had come through, knowing exactly what it was) and picked up the feather; turning it thoughtfully over in his fingers as he looked at the letter again.

_Falkner, _he thought, the voice inside his head an extremely poor, ridiculously high-pitched imitation of Clair, _I'm writing to you to boast about how awesome my city is again; we've been chosen to host this year's Leaders' meeting, in case you'd forgotten. Here's a reminder for you anyway, just in case you're completely dense. Please come along so you can listen to idiots give you useless information you already know, and then sit around for the rest of the night with people you don't even like and pretend to care when they talk to you…_

Falkner paused, thought briefly of the low-budget pornography he had played audience to barely minutes before, and a feeling suspiciously close to shame backcombed over him. He really needed to get out more - pity he had become so cripplingly bitter and antisocial as of late.

"You're a horrible person," he muttered to himself, and reached for the letter. The seal tore beneath his fingers, and he opened it out to read. Yep - he'd been right. He'd recognised the script on the envelope - Clair had somehow found the time to handwrite all the invitations - and why on earth would she write to _him _if not for Gym Leader business? Why on earth would _anyone_-

_Right, _he thought, _that's enough of that. _He focused fiercely on the contents of the letter, so much so that the writing blurred and he had to look away and rub at his eyes. It was for this reason that, once the world sharpened again and keeping his eyes open didn't result in the sudden beginnings of a headache, Falkner's gaze was drawn to the door. More specifically, to the pair of curious eyes peering around it.

"_Hooo…" _said Hoothoot, and Falkner's expression softened. He wordlessly held out an arm, tilting his chin to beckon the Pokémon over. When it didn't move, he tapped his forearm with two fingers, insistent. Still it didn't move.

"Fine," Falkner sighed, "I'm sorry I snapped, okay? I didn't mean to." Hoothoot seemed to consider the apology for a moment, before flying over to alight on his still-outstretched arm. It soft weight was almost comforting. He drew it in close, and buried his face into the feathers. "You know what?" he murmured. "Maybe this'll be good for me. Going out to Blackthorn, I mean."

Hoothoot was staring at him as he drew back; Falkner could see himself reflected in its eyes.

"_Hoot," _it said, and Falkner smoothed a fond hand down its back.

"If only you could completely understand what was going on…" he told it, a little wistful. "Things'd be a lot easier - I'd have you to talk to, for one thing." _I wouldn't feel so damned alone, _he wanted to add, but stopped himself. Saying it would be like admitting it was actually happening - he was _Falkner. _Cool, calm and collected, and _famously _so. He didn't need anyone, not really.

He set Hoothoot back on the mantelpiece, before holding the letter out. The Pokémon obediently opened its beak, and clamped down on the piece of paper. "Look after this for me, would you? I'm going to go and take a shower." Falkner turned and left the room, and Hoothoot stared after him.

The blue-haired man missed the look it gave his retreating back; somewhere between exasperation and sadness. It understood a lot more than the human gave it credit for, whether he knew it or not.

* * *

It had been a whole day since Eusine's departure, and Morty was still on autopilot.

He'd spent a few hours aimlessly drifting around the house, not unlike one of the ghosts back at the gym, before finally meandering his way to work. It hadn't been a surprise to know that the Gym Trainers _already knew _about his imminent departure (forever more organised than he was) and all that there had been left to do was get his arse handed to him by some kid Trainer; Morty was understandably distracted, and she had ripped an easy win from him.

He hadn't told anyone about Eusine. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"_Is Eusine going with you?" _one of the Gym Trainers had asked, after he had handed over the Fog Badge and the girl had left. All of the others at the gym were women old enough - not to mention _maternal _enough - to be his grandmother, and this one was no exception; she had smiled up at him and patted him indulgently on the cheek when he tried and failed to hide his discomfort at the question.

They all thought he was just shy. Such a nice young man.

Morty had felt his chest grow tight. _"No," _he had lied smoothly, though it took a lot of effort, _"he's off visiting relatives. Figured he'd head home for a couple of days, while I'm away."_

The woman had frowned. _"Well, that is a shame. I'm sure Blackthorn is lovely at this time of year, and we're in for some decent weather, too…"_

She had been right, of course - they always were. Morty was sure it was some brand of female sixth-sense; just as his mother had always known best about just about everything. As predicted, the October sun was mild above Blackthorn by the time Morty arrived at midday, and the perpetual breeze that swept through the mountain city was uncharacteristically gentle. It curled in through the open window of the taxi, and Morty tucked his chin into his scarf. It was still autumn, and still a little chilly.

He stared out at the houses and businesses and the people lining the streets, and then up at the mountains that distinguished Blackthorn from the rest of Johto, but it all just seemed to go right over his head. He could usually appreciate moments like these - he liked to travel, and it was nice to get out of Ecruteak for a while - but it just wasn't hitting home. In his mind, he was still back in the hallway, staring after Eusine's retreating back-

"Dammit…" he muttered, and his hands knotted fiercely in the material of his trousers, pulling the fabric at each knee. The driver shot him a confused look through the mirror.

"You alright, mate?" he asked, drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel. Morty nodded, still tense, and mentally berated himself for speaking aloud. The driver didn't seem quite convinced with his response, but thankfully turned his eyes back to the road and said no more. The taxi made its way through the streets towards the higher reaches of the city; winding towards their destination.

'The Dratini'. That had been the name on the letter - biggest hotel in Blackthorn, according to the driver. Clair obviously didn't do things by halves, and that became painfully apparent upon pulling up in front of the huge, stone building. It stood apart from the others on the road, set against the backdrop of the mountainside, and through the huge windows Morty could see people milling about in the foyer.

The driver cleared his throat. "We're a little early; guess we must've gotten lucky with the traffic. You need a hand with your stuff, or…?"

"No, I got it." He'd packed clean clothes for the morning in his duffel bag, but otherwise hadn't brought much. There wasn't much point; he was only there for one night. The driver opened the boot, and Morty grabbed the bag.

"I'll probably wait around for an hour or so before heading back; get something to eat, maybe." The older man lit a cigarette, and shot Morty a lopsided grin. "The missus won't be expecting me back 'til later, anyway."

Morty thanked and paid him, telling him to keep the change (since he still felt bad about acting weird as they made their way towards the hotel), before turning to face the building. Even if he was early, he reasoned, he might as well go and see if it was alright to check in. He left the taxi driver smoking on the hood of the car, and pushed through the revolving doors; catching his reflection briefly in the glass.

He looked miserable. He resolved to at least _try _and cheer up a little, and forced a smile as he approached the desk. They'd hand over his key, and then-

Well, they _would, _but there was someone already talking to the man on reception. Morty recognised them straight away.

"Here you are - room fifty-two." There was a clinking noise as a key was passed over. "You'll find everything you need there, and Clair will be dropping by once everyone's arrived. There's a telephone in the room; someone'll contact you from the front desk."

"Thanks very much," Falkner replied with a polite nod, pocketing the key. Yes, it was unmistakably him, and it gave Morty a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach. The blue-haired man bent to pick up his bag; by the looks of things, he'd packed even less than Morty had.

And perhaps Morty had been standing just a _little _too close, because Falkner turned and promptly crashed right into his chest.

"_Ah-!" _Falkner gave a clipped shout of alarm, and Morty's hands shot out to steady the smaller figure as he almost toppled sideways. The Ghost Trainer could feel his face immediately heat up in embarrassment, and before he could stop himself he was apologising-

"Sorry, sorry - didn't mean to get in your way-"

"Morty…" Falkner waved a hand, regaining his balance. There was a _hint _of a blush playing across his cheeks and his hair was dishevelled, but he was otherwise unharmed. "It's okay - it was my fault…"

An awkward silence stretched between them, and Morty was briefly reminded of that time in Goldenrod a year ago. _'I'd like to be left alone,' _Falkner had said. He hadn't exactly come across as an agreeable person, and he obviously didn't want to stand and make small-talk; Morty should just get his key and leave him to it, let him go off and stand in a corner by himself or whatever it was he wanted to do-

"Er," Falkner began, and Morty nearly had to do a double-take at the expression on his face. He looked as though he was in considerable pain. Either that, or just thinking _really _hard about his words. "Apparently it's gonna be over an hour until everyone gets here. You, uh, got here early too…"

"Overestimated the journey," Morty said, with a nervous laugh - conversation seemed to come easier to him than it did to Falkner, but he could _feel _the tension between them. He was talking to _Falkner_. Socially-awkward Falkner who'd embarrassed him at last year's meeting.

Falkner echoed the laugh weakly. "Yeah. Well… maybe I meet you back down here? Once you've gone up and unpacked, I mean. It's going to be a while until Clair arrives to get us and it'd be a shame to be stuck upstairs…"

Ah. Yes. Morty had clearly fallen through a hole in everything logical and ended up in an alternate universe. And now Falkner was making a strained attempt at being _nice. _"Uh, yeah, I don't see why not," Morty said slowly, and gestured towards the desk. "I'll get my key and then meet you back here in… fifteen minutes?"

"Okay." Falker seemed satisfied by that, at least, and Morty didn't miss the look of relief on his face. He turned without another word and made to take the staircase that ran up the centre of the hotel; leaving Morty just standing there, a little stunned. He watched the younger man go - climbing the stairs and eventually disappearing from view.

Morty didn't even think about Eusine as he checked in and the receptionist told him his room number; he was too busy pondering over Bird Trainers and personality transplants.


	3. Two

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Two

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Well… you guys are pretty damned awesome! XD Seriously - I can't believe the response so far; I'd kinda resigned myself to the idea that no one would be interested in this fic, but you've managed to prove me wrong. As a thank you, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Falkner had never liked Ghost Pokémon. Not since he had been little; owing largely to an incident involving a Gastly and a darkened room when he had only been about five or six years old. It was late, he recalled. His father had bid him goodnight and shut the bedroom door, and as the light from the hallway was reduced to a thin sliver across the floorboards, it had happened.

The little monster had floated out of the wall behind his headboard; all glowing eyes and wickedly grinning mouth, the dim glow of Falkner's nightlight sending its sparse shadow skittering across the ceiling as it floated into his line of sight…

He had screamed; he could still remember that much even now. And the look on his father's face - he had been angry, if memory served, that his son had been making such a racket when he was supposed to be asleep-

"_Son, you can't let Ghost Pokémon scare you. If you want to be a man, you have to learn to let go of these things - they're only scary if you _let _them get to you. One day you'll take control of the gym, and Leaders have to be strong…"_

As it was, Little Falkner had been less than convinced, and the thought of that Gastly… it still made him shiver even now; years and a lot of life-experience later. And there he was; in the hotel bar, sitting right next to Morty as if nothing were out of the ordinary whatsoever. Morty the Ecruteak City Gym Leader. Morty the Ghost Trainer.

And yet, in spite of it all, Falkner felt surprisingly okay with the whole thing.

It had taken a quick pep-talk in the bathroom mirror and a splash of cold water on his face, but he was _there_; a glass in his hand and another person sat across from him. It was easier than he had previously thought; because, when he really thought about it, there wasn't anything scary about Morty - _Ecruteak's _Morty - at all. There weren't any Poké Balls directly in sight; Morty was all relaxed limbs and an easy smile, and his voice was almost hypnotic as it washed over Falkner like the gently breaking waves in Cianwood.

It had taken a lot to talk to Morty in the foyer just now (Falkner hadn't thought about it - hadn't had _time _to think about what he was saying, really - it was just a spur-of-the-moment burst of courage, more than anything else), but it was just about enough to let him loosen up a little himself, and think, _Yeah… this really is okay…_

"Uh, Falkner…?" Falkner snapped to attention, reddening in embarrassment as he realised he had been daydreaming. Morty raised an eyebrow at him and tried again, "I, er… I asked you how the gym is…?"

"Ah - _sorry _- yes." Falkner resisted the urge to scratch at the back of his neck. He hoped he hadn't come across as rude. "New renovations - um… we've just set up a new walkway. Fairly high up, you know; just to make it easier for the Gym Trainers. There's a lot of room up there."

"I can imagine," Morty smiled; seemingly not caring that Falkner had drifted off. Maybe he was just being polite. "I've no head for heights myself, but I'll bet it's useful for Flying-types. There've been plans for a new set-up back in Ecruteak for a while, too, but it's just raising enough money to fund it…" Falkner suppressed a shudder at the thought of Ecruteak Gym (no one would ever catch _him _going in there; it must have been _crawling _with Ghosts) and his sudden nervousness bubbled up as a small laugh.

"I feel your pain," he said, not really thinking about his words, "it took _years _before our ideas were approved - and then there was the whole construction too. I mean, it's all good having walkways up there, but getting Trainers from A to B isn't exactly easy. And the amount of people we get who come over all dizzy once they're at the top… I suppose it's a challenge in itself just keeping your cool." Falkner shrugged, before realising with a small amount of surprise exactly what he'd just said. Morty was grinning at him like it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Falkner definitely noticed - it was as if his words came easier for some reason. He spoke like he hadn't done in ages; these days, he usually had very little to say.

There had to be a catch; something wasn't right.

Maybe it was Morty. Falkner subtly narrowed a scrutinising eye. Yes - calm and composed Morty, with his seemingly effortless posture and even tone of voice; his messy hair and open grin giving him a sort of boyish innocence, completely juxtaposed to both his physical size and the intelligence and experience behind each purple iris-

Falkner looked away. _Gay, _he reminded himself; suddenly remembering their little run-in at last year's meeting. He didn't want to give him the wrong impression - just, he told himself, as he wouldn't go gawping at Jasmine or Clair or-

"Oh my God - _Morty!"_

Falkner blinked in surprise as a red-headed blur sped straight past him and crashed into Morty's chest; very nearly knocking the Ghost Trainer from his seat. "Oh - it's been _far _too long!" the blur squealed animatedly, throwing out a limb to catch Morty around the neck and cling to him in a tight embrace. "I missed you, silly!"

_Jasmine or Clair or Whitney, _Falkner finished mentally, disappointment settling heavily into his gut for some unknown reason. It felt like he'd hardly had any time alone with Morty at all, before the interruption. He assured himself that it was simply a case of social anxiety; two people were more difficult to uphold a _safe _conversation with than one, and once everyone else arrived it would probably be near-impossible. He hated the big crowds, the forced small-talk…

"Hey - aw, I missed you too, Whit." Morty detached the girl from his neck and all but placed her down beside him; moving her as easily as if she were a doll. "How's Goldenrod been treating you?"

Whitney grinned widely, bouncing a little in her seat. "You'd be surprised how little has changed," she said, and her expression turned a little sheepish. "Heh… I got lost in the underground tunnel again yesterday…"

"But," Morty blinked, "there's only one way for you to go?"

The girl shrugged. "You'd be surprised - it gets a bit crowded with Trainers and it's weirdly easy to just do a loop if you get distracted by the stalls and… hang on, _Hawkner?"_

He wasn't even aware that he had been addressed until he looked up to see both Whitney and Morty staring right at him, but the accusatory tone in Whitney's voice had the knot in Falkner's stomach tightening. She was all but pointing a finger at him, just in case Morty had somehow managed to miss the memo. "Uh," Falkner began after a long pause, not sure how to respond, "it's actually Fal-"

"You two the only ones here then?" Whitney cut him off as she turned to Morty again, not seeming to hear the attempt to correct her. Her expression had changed somewhat; somewhere between disapproval and questioning, though Falkner couldn't fathom as to why. "Huh. I'd be careful, Mort - what would Eusine say, eh?" She brightened a little, nudging Morty playfully in the side and casting a deliberately sly look in Falkner's direction.

Morty looked suddenly uncomfortable, his countenance darkening with a kind of sadness for a split second, before the smile slid back into place again as if nothing had happened. Just like a light bulb; off and on again. "Nah, nothing like that. Not my type," he countered easily, his words catching on a small laugh. He shot an apologetic look at Falkner, and the Flying Trainer felt his face grow warm. There was just _something _about not being on the outside; Whitney was oblivious to it, but Morty was rolling his eyes towards the ceiling in affectionate exasperation as if saying _'kids' _-knowing full well that only he and Falkner were in on the joke…

The moment didn't last. Morty slung an arm around Whitney's shoulder, and Falkner felt himself fade into the background; seemingly invisible again. After all - they were old friends, and what was he? Practically a stranger. "Anyway," Morty said, changing the subject, "you going to fill me in, or what? _Besides _going walk-about again, what've you been up to?"

Falkner sat in silence - listening with half an ear to Whitney's chatter about Miltank and the new restaurant that had opened up on the main street and the travelling circus that had come to town two weeks ago - and wished, not for the first time, for the sort of friendship that Morty and Whitney quite clearly shared. It was painfully obvious that, after years of no effort on his behalf and an aversion to conversation, his social circle now consisted of just him; turning on the spot, on his own and hating it.

_Ah well, _he thought wearily, staring down into his glass. It was more or less empty now, and an image sprung to mind - a picture of a blue-haired man in a crowded bar, mutely nursing the same drink for hours while the world moved in chaotic fast-motion around him. _It's all good practice, I suppose. _He looked into Morty's laughing face, knowing that he was busy talking to Whitney and couldn't see him, and mentally added, _Yes. Just good practice._

* * *

Sometimes, when all you want is a private word, circumstances can work against you. Not good, when your patience reserves are decidedly low and it's been _ages _since you last saw the friend you need to speak to.

Unfortunately for Whitney, she fell neatly into this category.

"Morty…" she murmured, catching his elbow. The majority of the Johto leaders were sat in the function room of the hotel; waiting on Clair and the officials to show up and start the meeting. The buzz of conversation drowned out her words to everyone but the intended recipient; for this, she was thankful. "Morty - is everything okay?" She looked up at him, concerned, and squirmed a little in her seat. Worry always made her fidgety. "I… I wanted to ask before, but Hawkner, he-"

"Everything's fine, Whit. What're you worrying about?"

"I dunno, it's just… that guy," she finished, pressing her mouth into a thin line. She still wasn't sure _exactly _what had happened last year, (Morty had refused to say anything, no matter how much she tried to wheedle it out of him), but she definitely hadn't expected to find the pair of them having a casual chat over a beer. "I thought you two weren't, well, _friends _exactly…"

"I… I don't really think we are, if I'm honest." Morty cast a quick glance over to the other side of the room; Falkner was sat just across from them, eyes glued resolutely on the opposite wall. "He just turned up early as well. Asked me if I wanted to hang out for a while before everyone else got here, and I figured… well, why not?" He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, and Whitney supposed he was right.

She sighed, defeated. "If you say so. I just figured, that after the, uh, _incident _last year, you might have been a little more careful with him." A sudden thought came to mind, and her mouth twitched at the corners; trying hard not to laugh as she tilted her chin knowingly. "If his oddities are contagious, I'm not sure we should still be hanging out. Won't be long before you start acting _weird!_" she declared, and prodded him in the ribs for good measure.

He was laughing now, feigning offence, and before long it was just like she remembered; he might have looked like a no-nonsense Gym Leader, but more importantly he was just _Morty _and Whitney had missed him like hell. Plus, without him to stop her from getting into trouble, life's little problems seemed to recur increasingly often; like bypassing that last turn on the left before the underground entrance, for example, or missing the ground floor of the department store in the lift, and ending up in the basement instead. It was a little scary down there.

Still, just as Morty had written down directions for her and told her to ask the lady who operates the lift about which floor the exit was on, it was Whitney's job to look after him, too. And she just couldn't figure Falkner out - it was like he was blank, the way he sat there, completely content on his own and seemingly not put out in the slightest. He was-

"-actually quite a nice guy," Morty finished, and Whitney jumped. She had been so lost in thought she hadn't realised she was being spoken to - despite her formidable record for losing her way, she'd never managed to do it inside her own head before. It took a moment to process this latest information, and then she looked at him warily.

"Yeah?" she asked.

Morty nodded. "A little quiet, but you wouldn't have thought from the way he's acted before that he'd have that much to contribute to civil conversation. He was telling me about the gym back in Violet," he added quietly, eyes flickering over to where Falkner was sitting. The Bird Trainer didn't seem to notice. "Not much seeing as we're both Leaders, I know, but then - how much does _anyone _in this room actually know about him?"

"I know that whatever he said to you last time, it wasn't nice," Whitney told him pointedly, and Morty shook his head.

"Sometimes stuff like that is best forgotten. Otherwise we'd all be forever fighting over nothing," he said with a shrug, and Whitney frowned. It was difficult to argue her point when he was being all philosophical.

"Yeah well…" she struggled for an ending to her sentence for a long moment, finally sticking her tongue out with a defeated _'nyah'._

"Aw, Whitney…" Morty ruffled her hair and she felt like a little kid again. She often thought it was strange, how she got away with such gestures; he probably wouldn't tolerate them with anyone else. He was always cuffing Eusine lightly around the head when he got overexcited or wrapped up in some crazy idea. "Come on. It's not like I'm gonna be seeing him often or anything."

Whitney faked a pout. "Violet's closer to Ecruteak than Goldenrod is."

"Oh - you're _jealous _now?" Morty laughed.

"Hmmmph…" Whitney made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. "As long as you don't have him as your _boyfriend _or anything… I like Eusine just fine, thank you…" And it was true; she got on with Eusine like a house on fire, but couldn't ever imagine going to see Morty and having Falkner being there. "I mean, I don't mind weird, but I think that'd be pushing it a little, don't you think? Morty?"

"Hmmm?"

"Were you listening to me?" she asked, realising he had gone a little glassy-eyed. She frowned - was it something she said?

"Y-yeah. I heard you." Morty swallowed, and then the double doors opened; Clair showing the officials into the room. "Ah - look. Meeting's about to start."

"Hooray…" Whitney murmured sarcastically, leaning back in her seat. God - it was always a struggle just _sitting still. _These things were so boring.

Clair took her seat, and Whitney let herself drift off into a better place; only half-listening to what was being said. She was always daydreaming during the boring stuff - had done ever since she became Leader a few years back, and it had turned out that the job wasn't all winning battles and making the gym look pretty.

Morty sat rigidly in his seat, fingers clenched into fists in his lap, but Whitney didn't notice.

* * *

Rain. The Gym Trainers hadn't predicted it, or if they had, they had just neglected to tell him. Morty didn't really mind - he liked it. It washed everything clean; made everything new again. The smell of Blackthorn after rainfall… well, it was a little different to Ecruteak, but it was nice in its own way. Earthy, whereas Ecruteak was more like cut grass.

Morty noticed these things. Lots of little distractions.

He felt like he needed them.

Blackthorn was undeniably different to Goldenrod; whilst Whitney's hosting skills last year had resulted in utter mayhem, the present post-meeting celebration hadn't even moved from the hotel. They'd watched the sun set over the mountain tops, and then there'd been a lot of sitting around in relative peace - a time to catch up and unwind. Whitney hadn't been thrilled with the latter part of the arrangement, but was happy enough to natter on about anything and everything that sprung to mind.

Falkner hadn't come near either of them again. Maybe his confidence had been broken or something, but either way; he had sat in the corner, just as Morty had predicted he would, silently watching the others. He managed to catch his eye once or twice - fleeting glances across the room - but Morty wasn't sure _why _it was happening. Maybe Falkner wanted to come over and talk to them? But then, that wouldn't explain why his _own _gaze was drawn to the Flying Trainer; he just couldn't figure Falkner out. It was like Whitney had said - the guy really didn't make much sense.

Morty sighed. It was a lot easier to think back in his room; shut away from the company of others. To his knowledge, everyone had already left - he had seen off both Jasmine and Whitney only a few hours ago, and there hadn't been anyone else down at the reception desk waiting to be picked up. It wouldn't be long before the taxi driver would arrive in Blackthorn; then _he _could go home to his empty house and… and…

And his meditation really wasn't working. He was sat on the floor, legs folded into the lotus position, and his backside had gone slightly numb from staying in the same position for so long. The clock on the wall told him it was seven o'clock in the evening. The day really had flown - his mind had been so preoccupied that even the passing of time hadn't really occurred to him. Still on autopilot, it seemed.

He wondered where Eusine was now. He was probably headed back to Celadon, if he wasn't there already. It would make sense to drop back home for a little while; that's what Morty would tell him to do, if he were in Kanto with him.

As the situation stood, however, Morty wasn't in Kanto. He was in a Blackthorn hotel, thinking about the lover that had left him and secretly dreading going back home. He'd been doing such a good job keeping it out of mind, too; the moment he had retired to bed, lying there in the silence of his room, he could see it - replay Eusine's every movement in his head. He saw him turning to leave, and his stomach twisted at the image.

Morty stood, stretching his sore, stiff limbs, and had meandered over to the raindrop-spotted window when the phone rang. He lifted the receiver, putting it to his ear and answering, "Hello?"

"Hello there. Sir - just to inform you that your taxi has arrived. If you would drop your key at reception on the way out, that would be great."

"No problem. Thank you very much." The call was ended with a 'click', and Morty's packed bag was beckoning him from over by the door. Finally time to leave - he was going to have to go home at some point, after all. Couldn't prevent the inevitable forever.

…Maybe it would be easier once he got round to actually telling people about what had happened between him and Eusine. He hadn't had the heart to break it to Whitney; she adored the Legendary expert. She thought, in her own words, that he was 'magic'.

Morty thought so to, in a way. And perhaps that was the reason why he hadn't been able to open his mouth about the subject; there was a part of him that still clung to the idea that a reconciliation might still happen. Eusine was undeniably fickle - it was just the way he was, despite all his good intentions - and could change his mind faster than a person could blink. Spontaneous, impulsive… He could very well suddenly realise his mistake. He could very well be on the doorstep, waiting for Morty's return-

_No, _Morty told himself sternly, firmly dismissing the idea. Getting carried away; that was Eusine's trick. Whitney's trick. He was the level-headed one; he had to stay grounded even when everything appeared to be falling apart.

The heavens opened, and it was pouring it down as Morty descended the staircase; his echoing steps nearly drowned out by the continuous thud of the raindrops on the roof above them. He handed his key over to the girl on reception, and she cast her eyes skyward, looking up through the tall panes of glass.

"Lovely weather," she commented, but Morty wasn't particularly in the mood for idle chatter. He smiled politely as she signed him out, and put the key back on its hook behind the desk. "Thanks very much. We hope you've enjoyed your stay - have a safe journey home!"

"Thank you," he responded politely, turning to leave. He could see the black shape of the taxi through the glass; distorted as it was with raindrops. The world looked strange outside - blurry, as if it were a smudge by an abstract artist. Something that had to be looked at from a distance, maybe, before it could be understood. Morty sighed, and walked through the revolving doors.

The air outside was bitterly cold; biting at his skin as he stepped out into the rain and, half-soaked within the space of a few seconds, strode purposefully over to the cab. The driver saw him coming - getting out of the front seat to take his bag.

"As promised!" he said cheerfully, clapping Morty on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again! Go on, you hop inside - get out of this bloody rain." He pulled a door open for Morty, and then went to unlock the boot.

It was like heaven inside the taxi; Morty ducked his head and slid into the back seat, feeling instantly warmer. It seemed that the driver had kept the heater running; maybe he had known that October would catch up with them and that his passenger might need to dry off. Morty shut the door with a thud, plucking at his sodden clothes where they were uncomfortably glued to his skin.

He was glad he wasn't out in the rain anymore. Not like Fal-

_Wait… what-?_

The sound of the boot shutting behind him made him jump and he realised that, yes, it really _was _Falkner.

It was probably the rain that did it; Morty had been so focused on getting out of the cold that he hadn't sensed his presence, and had just walked right on past him. The other man was stood under the overhang, arms pulled in close to his body for warmth and hands dug deep into his pockets. Exactly what he was doing out there was anyone's guess (Morty thought everyone would have been long gone by now?) and before Morty could stop himself, he was opening the car door again-

"Hey - what're you doing?" the driver asked, confused. He had to shout to be heard over the wind.

"Er, could you hold on for just a minute?" Morty glanced over at Falkner, who was staring right at him. "I just have to talk to someone for a moment; won't be long." The driver shrugged, murmuring something about having time, and got back into his seat. Morty heard him turn the radio on as he quickly turned on his heel; jogging back under the cover of the overhang.

Falkner looked surprised to see him. He'd probably been daydreaming again, and hadn't seen Morty run for the car. "Uh - Morty?" he started, confused. "What are you still doing here?"

Morty gave a small laugh, pushing his wet hair from his eyes. It really was turning into the day from hell. "I could ask the same of you."

"Just waiting for my pick-up," Falkner explained with a shrug, and Morty raised an eyebrow.

"Out here in the rain?"

"It's a little stuffy inside. I wanted some air. Besides - it's boring being cooped up by yourself all day." He seemed to rethink his own words, and a slight blush played across his features, though Morty couldn't imagine as to why. The guy was just one paradox after another, really, and thinking about it too much was more than enough to give Morty a headache.

"Have you rung the firm, or…?"

"Oh - er… no. No, there's none available from Violet at the moment; I hadn't actually thought of the journey back…" His complexion darkened further, and Morty felt a little sorry for him. "Was just waiting on one of the regulars - the woman at the desk says they have drivers come by in the morning and evening to pick visitors up. Must be because it's a big hotel, I guess."

Morty looked over his shoulder at the waiting taxi. The radio was blasting old rock music now; the driver doing the air guitar when the song hit the chorus.

_We'll have to cut through Violet, anyway… _Morty reasoned to himself, and then gestured towards the car. "Why not share?" he suggested. "Gotta go through Violet to get to Ecruteak, and I'm sure the driver won't mind dropping you back at your place. Extra money and all that. Plus, you'll probably be waiting here for ages, otherwise. Hardly anyone wants to be driving in this weather."

Whatever Falkner had been expecting him to say, it clearly wasn't that. He cleared his throat, looking suddenly nervous. "Oh - um…"

"I don't bite," Morty added, feeling some of his usual cheerfulness seep through the gloom, and Falkner barked a short, tremulous laugh.

"…Yeah," he said after a moment's thought, smiling. "Alright." Morty picked up his bag for him - so light there could hardly have been anything in it, really - and had turned for the car again when he felt a hand on his elbow. "Morty?"

He looked back at Falkner in surprise. "Hmmm?"

"Thank you," Falkner said quietly, and Morty wasn't sure he had heard him correctly over the sound of the rain against the concrete. Still, it didn't really demand an answer - he just nodded and set a brisk pace, walking just a step ahead of Falkner as the pair hurried over to the waiting car.

The driver's fingers moved over the imaginary strings in time to the solo, and Morty and Falkner both slid inside, out of the rain.


	4. Three

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Three

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Ta da - I'm exhausted, but here's number three for you. :) Longest chapter yet, which is a good thing, I guess! My fingers hurt (I think it might be the angst, but there'll possibly be a break in that soon enough), so I'll just leave you to read. Enjoy. XD

* * *

_In between one breath and the next, in the quiet space that punctuated each beat of his heart, Falkner slipped quietly away from Morty and the taxi and the thrum of the rain against the windows._

…_Well, that theory would make sense, anyway; people didn't just move from one place to another in a matter of moments. Not unless there was a Pokémon with Teleport in the vicinity, and Falkner was pretty sure none of his own were capable of that. And, as far as he was aware, neither were Morty's._

_He was dreaming. He was asleep and having a dream - relaxing back into slumber as the rhythmic patter of the rain became a low hum, and everything real and tangible blurred into _something else.

_Violet Gym. Falkner was home._

_He was stood on the back platform, clutching a Poké Ball in one hand, and watching as the high walls and ceiling were illuminated with the red and gold of late evening; the sun was setting over the city. If it was a dream, at least it was a nice one, Falkner supposed. He always got a sense of _home _there, a sense of belonging-_

"_Hey - mister. Falkner." A voice cut into his musings, and he noticed the kid for the first time - a boy barely into his teens, holding out his hand expectantly. He was breathing heavily with what appeared to be adrenaline rush, and there was a Squirtle clutching his trouser-leg. "You lost," he declared, his obnoxious voice echoing loudly against the hollow ceiling, "so it's the rule. The badge."_

_Falkner snapped back to himself, staring at the Poké Ball in his hand. He lost? "Oh - uh, yes. Of course." He forced his usual composure back into place; always cool and impassive. "The badge. You earned this…" He dropped the pin into the boy's hand, the metal winking as it caught the light. The boy lifted it to inspect his spoils properly._

"So _awesome…" he murmured, and then gave a little whoop of victory. Probably his first badge, considering the look on his face. He turned to Falkner again, and said, "Right, I'll be leaving then! I thought this was never going to _finish _- it'll be dark soon, you know-"_

_Falkner's ears tuned out to the idle chatter, and the kid eventually took the hint; the whirring of cogs hailed his descent back down to the gym floor. His heavy, eager footsteps could be heard as he rushed off outside, and silence fell over the room once more. Falkner breathed out a relieved sigh._

_The kid had been right. It really was getting late, and dream or not - he couldn't just sit up there by himself all night. Tiredness hit him bone-deep; it had been a long day of battling, apparently. Being Leader was tough work, sometimes. The Gym Trainers seemed to have gotten the right idea; Falkner was completely alone. Maybe they had let the kid through and then decided to call it a day?_

Lazy, _thought Falkner, but it didn't really matter to him much. He'd lock up by himself and then be heading back. He hastened to the platform; it was a little chilly up there in the higher reaches of the gym, and the thin cloth of the traditional attire he usually wore did very little to keep him warm. He'd maybe have to start bringing something thicker with him, now that winter was starting to set in._

_Falkner had barely made it to the edge of the walkway before the sound of footsteps reverberated through the room once more; he thought briefly that it might be the kid again, but the pace was too slow and controlled, particularly compared to the boy's rushed stride as he had left moments before. Whoever it was meant business, but was in no hurry, and when a figure appeared at the door, Falkner felt his stomach twist beneath his ribcage-_

"_Son? Falkner - are you here?" The voice was familiar too - most definitely, _definitely _not the kid. Falkner backed off a little, hoping he hadn't been seen; hell, he would _prefer _it if it were the boy. At least he could tell him to leave, there was no getting rid of his…_

_Of his…_

"_Ah, Falkner - there you are. You're not going to come and say hello to your old man?" His father peered up at him, squinting a little in the dying light. It was undoubtedly him - a little older, perhaps, with a few more lines and greying hair to show for it, but still the same man. It made Falkner's throat tighten just looking at him. "You're a little old for childish games, son."_

_He'd come to check up on him. He'd come to see how much Falkner had messed up - how much he was running the gym into the ground. It really wasn't fair - he wasn't _ready. _Not even so much as a _phone call _to let Falkner know he was on his way; everything was such a mess, and it wasn't going to work…_

"_I have to say, this is very interesting…" His father stepped up to the moving platform; still lowered from the kid's exit. "Very fancy," he commented, his voice floating up from the ground as Falkner retreated again towards the Leader's position at the back of the room. "Never would have had anything like this back when I ran this place - oh no. It was all about the Pokémon then, no one really cared about the _look _of the gym… Wasted effort, really…"_

"_It's all new regulations," Falkner defended weakly, having to raise his voice to be heard. "People talk…"_

"_Ah, so you _do _have a voice?" his father joked, and then said, by way of a reply, "I'm sure they do talk." There was a groan of machinery and, as Falkner looked back over his shoulder, his father's head and shoulders rose into view at the opposite end of the walkway. "Hell of a lot of importance in it. Funny, really; I always felt actions spoke louder than words. Did that boy _really _just walk off with the Zephyr Badge, or did my eyes deceive me?"_

"_It happens," Falkner countered, "or else _no one _would make it to the League, would they?"_

"_Soft." His father barked a short laugh, and stepped onto the walkway. It creaked a little; just like it always did. Usually it had Trainers flinching, but his father's face remained impassive. "It was probably a good thing I left, then - the system would have ground to a halt otherwise, eh?"_

"_Did you have a good time, Dad?" Falkner asked loudly, changing the subject. He couldn't quite keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone. The footsteps behind him came to a surprised stop. "While you were away, that is? Did you find whatever it was you were looking for?"_

_Another laugh. "There's more than Violet out there, you know. And besides, I thought a little more responsibility would have been good for you…"_

"_You 'thought'?"_

"_I dropped by this morning - you were busy battling. I spoke with the Gym Trainers. They don't think you're coping with the strain." Falkner turned to face him, taken aback, and his father shrugged. "It's alright, son. It's okay - I know it's difficult. I have to admit…" He drew a weary hand over his face, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Maybe… I was wrong. Maybe it was all too much too soon."_

_Falkner stared at him. "Dad - it's been _years_-"_

"_I know. And you're clearly no better off for it now than you were at the beginning."_

"_How would you know?" Falkner bit out. "You never returned any of my calls, the letters I sent you-"_

"_I was forever having problems with the line, never in the same place for long, and anyway; you need to learn to stand on your own feet. I've had my own business to attend to."_

"_Dad-"_

"_I left you the gym," the older man interjected, "so that you could become the Bird Master I thought you were. But it's alright. I'm home now. We can go back to how we were - you can leave it all to me. All your problems, stresses… it's just a bit of paperwork, really, and then that's it. Done with."_

"_You…" Falkner started, his voice wavering a little, "you've come to take back the gym?"_

_His father looked… sad. Maybe even a little regretful. "I was just passing by. It's been so long since I've seen home, but… well, actually _being _here has made me realise what's important."_

_Falkner felt a stirring sensation inside his chest - a little flutter of emotion. What was important to his dad - even after all this time, he had come back. Falkner was his _family _after all, his son-_

"_We mustn't let anything stand in the way of our successes," his father finished, and Falkner's breath caught on his surprise. It wasn't unlike being suddenly plunged into cold water. "They're paramount to everything we do in life - the driving force - and without them… we have nothing, and we just drift. You understand, son? I realise now that, in pushing you into this, I was merely a hindrance. For that… I apologise. But I'm here now, and perhaps the way forward truly is to recognise what's _not _working and learn to let go."_

_A long silence followed in the wake of the speech, seeming to stretch on for a lifetime. Falkner's mouth moved over words he couldn't physically voice, as he tried to find the right ones to say. Finally, he drew in a long, slow breath. "Well," he began, looking down at his feet, "I… I'm sorry you feel that way. And I'm sorry I messed up so badly."_

"_Falkner…" His father gave him a pitying look. "It's alright. I'm at fault here - I should have anticipated this conclusion. Now, come," he held out a hand, "and we'll go and straighten this whole situation out, eh?"_

_Falkner didn't want to. He didn't want to 'straighten the situation out', and he didn't want to relinquish the gym. Not after all his hard work - always striving towards bettering himself, bettering the gym, making sure his city was noticed and honoured as it deserved to be. A mistake or not, it had happened. The gym was _his.

"_I don't know, Dad…" he tried, and his father made a quick gesture back towards the platform._

"_Come on."_

"_Look, I know what you think, but I've really been doing just fine-"_

"_Falkner," his father cut him off again, "it's time to put this all aside. It would be foolish to allow things to continue as they are."_

"_But… but I-"_

"Falkner." _Another voice. Falkner's stomach did a surprised flip - _where were these people coming from? _- and he whirled around to see Morty standing on the Leader's post. He looked perfectly relaxed; cool and calm and everything Falkner _wasn't_ at the moment. "Are you coming or not?"_

"_E-excuse me?" Falkner blinked, and then Morty held out _his _hand._

"_It seems that there isn't much time," Morty said, as if that explained everything, and then grinned down at the figure at his feet. "Told you he'd be stubborn," he added, in a matter-of-fact sort of way._

"_Yeah, whatever. Come on, Hawkner, we're leaving!" piped up Whitney, and Falkner had to do a double-take; he hadn't noticed her sitting there, swinging her legs cheerfully over the side of the walkway as if they _weren't _dangerously high up off the ground._

Leaving to _where, _exactly? _Falkner wondered, but Morty's hand was soft against his own, fingers curling into his palm to pull him closer, and _when had he taken his hand? _Before his mind had the chance to catch up he had reached out, and was now tucked under the crook of Morty's arm, pulled into a quick embrace._

He smells good, _Falkner thought, and then blushed at his own treacherous thoughts, feeling suddenly ridiculous. But he really did - clean, with just a hint of what may have been incense smoke…_

_Morty clapped him hard on the shoulder, as if to reassure his irrational doubt over his own masculinity. The blush darkened several shades at the thought that Morty might have read his mind. "Right - we're all set, then."_

"_Falkner?" his father called, as Whitney hopped quickly to her feet and Morty steered Falkner towards the edge of the walkway. "What on earth is this? Do you know these people?"_

_The toes of Falkner's shoes hung over the edge, and he had to keep reminding himself that he was still dreaming - it was still just a dream, only a dream…_

_His father coughed loudly. He sounded panicked as he spoke, "I must protest - have you lost your mind? Falkner - that's _dangerous_, stop it at once-"_

_Falkner paid him no attention - the objections petered out into mere background noise. There was a mouth close to his ear; Morty's voice was barely above a low murmur as he asked, "Do you trust me?" and Falkner was too busy trying to calm the resulting fluttering of his nerves to form a decent reply. Their eyes locked for a split second, and in that moment Falkner knew - or, at least, _thought _he did - what was best for him._

_Morty's fingers were laced with Falkner's own as the three of them turned and stepped forward into nothingness. Falkner's insides lurched and the air whistled about his ears, and the gym floor rushed upwards to meet them…_

* * *

Sleeping. Well, more than just that, really - Morty could appreciate the significance of a dream, and judging by the look on Falkner's face and the periodic twitch of his limbs, the Flying Trainer was seeing something that everyone else in the taxi were oblivious to. He couldn't be blamed; it was late and it had been a busy few days.

More than just an opponent's weak spot, really. Dreams could be the window to a person's subconscious. Morty wondered what Falkner's dream said about whatever he had locked away.

It had been a long journey; seeming to stretch on for longer than the trip there, strangely enough. But then, perhaps it was just the anxiety again; the more Morty thought about it (and the more he tried to reassure himself), the more he didn't want to go home. Just sitting there in the taxi, with the sleeping Leader's head on his shoulder as he watched the world fly past the window, was becoming a better experience by the second; to go back to the empty rooms and-

And…

Morty physically jumped, and Falkner mumbled something nonsensical in his sleep; reacting to the sudden movement. Morty hadn't even noticed - hadn't even _cared _to notice - but then, between Eusine and Whitney, he was kind of used to people dozing off on him.

"_You're comfy," _Eusine had told him once, lying with his head in Morty's lap as they watched television one night. And Whitney had declared him her favourite pillow after multiple trips on the magnet train - there was something about public transport that sent her into some sort of lull, and apparently Morty's chest was the best place to sleep it out.

There was something undoubtedly nostalgic about the whole set-up. Eusine's lock of hair, the one that was forever falling into his face, had been a fond annoyance; now, Morty's fingers twitched to sweep Falkner's fringe from his eyes. He lifted a hand to the younger man's face before he could stop himself, fingertips ghosting over the curve of his cheek, and then a cold feeling washed over him.

He was being horribly unfaithful. Disloyal to Eusine; the man who had walked out on him, yes, but he had been gone for all of a few days and already Morty was cuddled up in the back of a taxi with a guy he _barely knew_. The same guy who had barely said a word to him since they got in the vehicle, and it was a long way from Blackthorn to Violet. A very long way.

Morty imagined Eusine on the doorstep, but before the thought could carry him away again, the driver piped up, "Here we go. Violet City."

The rain was finally letting up as they wound through the dark streets; Morty watched with a detached sort of interest as the flames of the lamps illuminated the sodden pavement in flickering pools, the lights of the Pokémon Centre and the local market flashing past the window as he pressed his forehead to the cool glass… He wasn't familiar with Violet, not at all, but he could see why Falkner would want to live here. Like Ecruteak, it was all a bit sombre; a kind of melancholy built into the very architecture of the city.

Beautiful, in its own way. A lot like home.

"Hey," the driver called from the front, "where am I headed to?"

Morty blinked. Of course, he'd have to wake Falkner; he didn't have a clue where he lived. "Oh - erm…" He moved his shoulder a little, bringing up a hand to gently shake the younger man. "Falkner? Falkner - we're here."

"Mmmmf… Morty?" came the groggy response, and bleary eyes flickered up his meet his own. Falkner's voice was thick from sleep.

"Yeah. Falkner, you need to wake up. We need directions," Morty added, and after a few moments Falkner seemed to realise where he was and, more importantly, _who _he had been sleeping on. Morty watched as the Flying Trainer turned various colours - starting with a pinkish red and ending a dull purple - and sat bolt upright, hurriedly straightening his jacket and trying to smooth down his mussed, blue hair.

"I… I fell asleep…" he muttered, more to himself than Morty.

"You did," the Ghost Trainer supplied oh-so-helpfully, smiling a little at Falkner's obvious mortification. It was almost sweet, really. Strictly in the sense of puppies and cartoons and small children, though, Morty reassured himself. He didn't _like _Falkner, not like that…

"I'm really sorry." Falkner was still blushing; it was obvious even in the dim lighting. He seemed to compose himself and looked out of the window, getting his bearings. "Ah - yes. We've just missed my turning." He raised his voice to say to the driver, "You can turn around just up ahead. Then it's the second street on the left back there - sorry for the bother."

The driver whistled as they came to a slow stop, and he turned the car around.

Moments later, Falkner coughed to clear his throat as they pulled into a small side street. "I guess this is me, then," he said quietly, offering a weak smile. "Thanks for letting me share."

"Don't worry - it was no problem. Better than going alone," Morty added, before he could stop himself. But then, it was true; he _had _somewhat enjoyed at least having someone else sitting next to him, even if the conversation had been a little lacking. Falkner had been a welcome distraction.

He mulled it over, realising how wrong it all sounded. _Eusine, _he reminded himself, _Eusine…_

Clearly embarrassed again. Did Falkner make a habit of doing this? How had none of them noticed before? "Yeah," Falkner said, bowing his head so his hair covered his eyes, "it's nice to have a bit of company." He looked faintly _pleased _under his uncomfortable exterior; almost as if Morty had inadvertently complimented him.

Then, as they came to the end of the road-

"Here'll do fine, thank you." Falkner dug in his pocket, pulling out money to pay the driver. The exchange was quickly made, and the driver opened his door to stick a hand out.

"Stopped raining. If it's alright with you," he said to Morty, "am I okay to take a quick cigarette break? Five minutes, tops."

Morty nodded. "Of course," he said, and the driver got out of the car, shutting the door with a thud. Morty could see him through the windscreen as he sat on the hood with his back to them, rummaging around in his pockets for a lighter.

Falkner didn't follow him. Morty gave him a sideways look - just a glance, really - suddenly feeling a little uneasy. The other man was staring at him, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't decide exactly _how _to. Falkner's nerves were fluttering; Morty could feel it in his aura. The sound of Falkner's fingers tightening on the handle of his meagre luggage sounded oddly loud in the silence of the taxi.

"I should get going, then…"

"I'll see you around, Falkner," Morty replied. Unlikely, yes, but it seemed like the right kind of thing to say.

A pause.

"Um," Falkner began, and Morty's feelings of unease rose, "Morty - look, I was just wondering… It's just… Ah, I'm sorry; I'm not really very good at this. I don't really get out all that much." A small, self-deprecating laugh. Falkner rubbed at the back of his neck. "It was good, seeing you at the meeting. You and Whitney and everyone. Anyway, I was just thinking that maybe it would be good to hang out again sometime…"

_Oh dear, _Morty thought, feeling thoroughly miserable. He really was a terrible person; so soon after Eusine. It was too soon - _way _too soon. He'd been too nice to Falkner and somehow managed to string him along.

"You can come to Violet whenever; you've got all the numbers under the Leaders listing, just ask at the gym. Or, erm, I don't mind coming out to Ecruteak or Goldenrod if you guys ever want to go for a drink. If you want, that is," Falkner finished hopefully, waiting expectantly for Morty's response.

It clearly wasn't the reply he was after. "Falkner," Morty began hesitantly, and Falkner's expression immediately shut down at the lack of enthusiasm in his tone, "I… I'm sorry, but it's just not going to happen."

Falkner's face remained impassive, but there was a hint of _something _in his voice as he asked, "Why not?" Disappointment, maybe?

Morty didn't really have a temper to speak of, but he was never known to suffer unnecessary drama either; everything had happened so fast, with Eusine and the trip to Blackthorn, and the clear answer was _space. _Breathing room, just to figure things out. It seemed that Falkner was dragging his heels, and Morty felt a little frustration well up inside his chest.

"Have you forgotten last year?" he asked, knowing that it wasn't exactly the best idea to bring it all up again, but unable to stop himself. His voice was low and even; as if he were telling off a child. "You behaved like an idiot. Even before then - we'd barely even said a word to one another. And now… I can't figure you out. Hanging around while waiting for everyone to arrive, _falling asleep _on me on the way here… It's all a bit _weird, _you understand? All of a sudden it's like we're okay."

Falkner's emotionless mask flickered for a split second. "I thought we were okay?" He seemed confused as to where he had gone wrong. Somehow, it made Morty's exasperation worse - he _wanted _to like him. There was a big part of him that really _didn't mind _if Falkner tagged along with him and Whitney, but that moment back on the road… He couldn't have that. Not now.

"Yeah, well… you'll have to find someone else to drink with. We haven't got time to discuss it now." He just wanted Falkner gone - he wanted to be as far away from the whole situation as possible. "…I'm sorry."

And that was that. Morty's tone was final, and he looked resolutely away.

He heard the sound of the car door opening and then closing again, and Falkner's footsteps on the wet pavement.

When he turned back, Falkner was gone.

* * *

In a way, Morty both liked and disliked the last battle of the day.

On one hand, Pokémon were his passion, and there was always the imminent promise of an evening spent relaxing at home after a hard day's work. But then, the job was just that; difficult, in the sense that there were countless Trainers working their way up to the League, and it could get exhausting after a while. He wouldn't want it any other way, but it could get just a little repetitive sometimes.

"_Gengar - use Hypnosis!" _Even his own voice seemed distant to him as he gave the command; vaguely aware of the kid's cry of dismay as the Growlithe wavered on its feet, and fell soundly asleep.

Gengar grinned widely; it knew that the battle was practically over. As did Morty, but on this particular occasion, he'd have been happy to take on Trainers well into the night. A week and a half had passed since his return, and he still hated walking in through the front door.

Eusine hadn't been there - as expected, really. Morty had berated himself for even allowing the blind hope to manifest in the first place. It was a childish fantasy; things just didn't happen like that in the real world. People don't cross entire regions to heal a relationship they don't want to fix; just as low-level Growlithe don't hold out against the Pokémon of Ecruteak's Gym Leader.

"_Okay - Gengar, finish it! Use Dream Eater!" _He watched as Gengar descended on the Growlithe, and the girl opposite pulled her hat down over her eyes; not wanting to look. The whole scene still felt oddly far away; too much time spent in meditation, most likely. Morty hadn't done much else, besides battling of course. It had been the best distraction he could come up with.

Within seconds, it was over; Growlithe had fainted, and the badge was safe.

Morty came back to himself, cutting his musings short.

"You did the best you could," the girl was saying, though the Pokémon was thoroughly unconscious. She returned it to its Poké Ball, and turned her attention to Morty. "We're not beat yet!" she declared, stubbornly. "We'll be back to try again."

"I look forward to it." The young Trainers always made him smile. So much single-minded enthusiasm. "Make sure you train hard - next time I see you, I want to be handing over the badge!"

She nodded, still gripping the Poké Ball in her fist. "You'd better be ready!" she warned him cheerfully, and was gone; he could hear her whistling as she made her way back through the darkness. The best Trainers learned from defeat and used it to become stronger.

"_Gennn…" _Gengar was watching him; its face still set into its usual leer. It was weirdly comforting, in its own way. Even when things looked pretty grim, he could always rely on his Pokémon to make him feel a little better.

"Come on," he said to it, words drifting on a tired sigh, "let's go home."

It had been a terrible two weeks; in the aftermath he had a lot to think over, and a lot to regret. Much of it came right down to stepping over the threshold - every time he slid the key into the lock and opened his front door, he instantly felt bad. Bad that he hadn't tried harder to persuade Eusine to stay. Bad that he hadn't trusted Whitney or the Gym Trainers enough to tell them about what had happened yet. Bad that he'd treated Falkner the way he had, back in the taxi.

It was all… so very messy.

Morty walked through the Ecruteak streets with Gengar, painfully aware that each step was bringing him closer to home and closer to remembering it all over again. Truth be told, he was more than just a little ashamed; the thought of how he had handled it hurt worse than the circumstance itself.

Namely, the episode back in Violet.

He was the patient one. Understanding and straightforward; that was his approach. But he'd managed to freak out, and Falkner… poor, irritable, socially-awkward Falkner… the things he'd said… Eusine's walkout and Falkner's indecipherable personality had left Morty paranoid, but in the aftermath it was clear - Falkner didn't want anything more than friendship. Morty had messed up.

He brought both hands to his face, cringing a little at the idea. Gengar looked up at him in confusion, but he didn't notice. He was too immersed in thought; how on earth was he supposed to handle Whitney and the Trainers and every other sympathetic face he ran into, when he couldn't even control himself?

The gate creaked, and he took slow steps up the path to the door.

First things first, he should probably apologise to Falkner; say he was wrong for being such a jerk. Would it _really _be so bad if Falkner were to come along with him? Maybe Falkner could join him when he went to Goldenrod to visit Whitney - she'd get used to him eventually. Judging by his clumsy invitation back in the taxi, Falkner had considerable difficulty when it came to seeing people regularly; it'd be nice for him to hang out with fellow Leaders in a more casual setting, and it'd take Morty's mind of Eusine for a bit, too…

_That is, _Morty thought glumly, as he slid the key into the lock, _if he decides to forgive me for being harsh. _He pushed open the door, and Gengar simply floated through the wall and into the kitchen.

It was a good idea to at least _try. _After all, the Trainer with the Growlithe would be back to go for the badge again, and if she could take her mistakes and learn from them, then so could Morty. Maybe leave it a few more days - make sure the dust had completely settled. He couldn't move on with everything hanging on his conscience like it was; realistically, he knew he would eventually have to let Eusine go, and the best way to do that was with a fresh start-

A pause. The door clicked shut behind him.

He'd been so caught up in thoughts of Falkner that he hadn't really noticed he'd made it home; he'd just gone through the usual motions without thinking about it. Eusine's absence on the doorstep hadn't burned him, and he didn't feel particularly aimless anymore. As unnerving as Falkner's sudden change of heart was, in a way it had somehow given Morty a new sense of purpose; even if there had been an unpleasant exchange prior to it, it had still happened.

Morty's gaze slid to the phone on the wall, and he'd made up his mind.


	5. Four

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Four

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Hello there! :) Welcome to my latest effort! I'm a little happier with this than the last chapter, so I really hope you guys enjoy too - you've all been so incredibly supportive and you definitely deserve this!

* * *

The spray from the shower was heavy against his temple, and felt oddly like the beginnings of a headache.

In the end, it had only taken a few hours for Falkner to made his mind up; he had officially been promoted from solitary loser to the Biggest Idiot in Johto, (a title that demanded capitalisation). The whole, sorry scene kept playing over in his head; the comfortable silence as they sat in the back of the taxi, him drifting off on Morty's shoulder, Morty's face when Falkner had pushed everything too far…

A damp hand balled itself into a tight fist.

An idiot. He was a desperate idiot who'd gone and ruined everything. _Why _didn't he just leave it…?

_But, then what? _piped up an obnoxious little voice inside his head, sounding strangely like Whitney. It had to shout to be heard over the patter of water. _Just wait until next year? Or forget all about it?_

Truth be told, Falkner didn't _want _to forget all about it. Nor did he want to wait a whole year before he would see Morty again. There was just something about him… something that Falkner couldn't really define. He was just… nice.

Nice. It seemed pathetically inadequate in light of what had just happened, but it seemed to be the most fitting adjective he could come up with. Morty was warm and open and friendly. Everything Falkner wanted to be, but wasn't; the more he thought about it, the more it was true. Was _that _the reason why Falkner said what he did? Making premature assumptions about people - good or otherwise - wasn't something he was prone to doing, but how could his opinion of Morty be _anything _but rushed if he hardly ever saw him…?

Falkner bent his head, watching as the water fell in thick rivulets and curled away down the drain. Now that he thought about it, he had spent more time in the shower over the past couple of days than usual; as if he could just wash himself clean of the bad thoughts, and let them bleed away with water. There had been a lot to mull over; where he would usually just say 'forget about it' and move on to more important matters, (such as the gym, for example), he found himself unable to just shrug it off.

Not only had he somehow managed to freak Morty out, but the dream…

He'd seen his dad.

There was a _thud _as Falkner's fist connected with the wall of the shower, and pain blossomed over his knuckles. Not hard enough to break, but enough to hurt. Story of his life, really, nowadays.

The details were hazy; even from the moment he had woken up, they were slipping away from him. It was like trying to hold water in your hands - sooner or later, it's going to escape. But he remembered his father's face, and he remembered Morty and Whitney, and he remembered the feeling of being held. He remembered being safe from it all.

His dad had come back to take the gym, hadn't he? To be Leader again?

The thought had him gritting his teeth before he realised what he was doing. He was _anything _but a failure; he was strong. Strong and determined and confident and…

And…

Falkner's mouth opened on a laugh, and the volume magnified against the tiles of the bathroom. The sound of anxious fluttering could be heard down the hallway, but he ignored it; his Pokémon had always trusted him, even if no one else did. _They _knew that he would be okay in the end, and the whole situation seemed so ridiculous that there was nothing to do _but _laugh.

What had happened with Morty was all just a bad joke. As was Falkner's whole damned _existence_, in fact; everything he was constantly pushing for, but would never reach. No one else thought he was good enough. He wondered exactly _when _it was that his goals had stopped making sense.

He was still mulling over this latest mystery when he heard it. The fluttering had started up again.

As had the ringing of an olive branch, although Falkner was unaware of that at the time. As the water was quickly shut off and he stood in the sudden silence, all he heard was the telephone. There was a long pause.

No one _ever _rang him at home; not unless it was an emergency. He wasn't exactly great conversation, and he usually had any business calls directed straight to the gym; that way, the Gym Trainers could handle them and he didn't have to talk to someone he couldn't see.

The thought of the dream came back to him - the thought of his father's face springing unbidden to mind - and he very nearly slipped over in his effort to rush for the phone. Droplets of water shivered to the floor like broken glass as the shower door was flung open, and Falkner didn't even bother to grab a towel on his way out into the hallway. His footsteps were set and determined as he hurried through to the living room and-

The ringing stopped. Hoothoot was staring at him, sitting next to the phone. For a split second, their gazes locked.

There was a click, and a beep.

"_I'm sorry, the person you have called is unable to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone…"_

Falkner stood, anxious and naked, and his heart stuttered as a familiar voice flooded the room. It wasn't his father.

As much as Falkner felt that he somehow didn't quite make sense anymore, the fact was that _neither did Morty._ Never had, in fact; for all Morty's straightforward nature, he was still well-known for being enigmatic, and there seemed to be nothing more paradoxical than rejecting someone's request for friendship, and then leaving them a call days later.

In that moment, Falkner was strangely glad that Morty seemed to be just as messed up as he was.

"_Hey Falkner," _the voice filtered through, strangely metallic through the phone line but not losing its soft, even quality, _"It's Morty. I guess, uh, this means that you're out. Or busy. Or you just don't want to talk to me, which is understandable, but…" _A sigh. _"I was an idiot. A jerk. If you don't want to hear me out, it's okay - I won't call again. But… well, if you're still listening to this, then I'm sorry. I acted badly and I feel awful. The thing is… some rubbish has been happening recently over here, everything is a bit upside-down at the moment and I thought… I'm not even going to _tell _you what I thought. I've been so incredibly stupid."_

Hoothoot had transferred its gaze from its master to the phone. There was a certain severity in its stare.

"_Anyway, I'd much rather explain in person. It's a good idea; hanging out sometime. I don't know about taking you to see Whit - won't be going to Goldenrod for a while yet - but if you want to give me another chance, we could meet up for a few drinks or whatever; you can just give me a call to let me know. I don't mind coming down to Violet, that's fine!" _There was a long pause. There was a shuffling noise; presumably Morty was shifting the phone to the other ear. _"Erm, anyway… I'll stop bothering you. Please… just give me a call when you can. I'll make all of this up to you, I pr-"_

Falkner stopped, horrified. Hoothoot levelled another stare at him. If it could have raised an eyebrow, it most certainly would have been doing so.

"…_Falkner, are you there?"_

The voice was quieter now, filtering through the mouthpiece.

The phone sat upended on the table. Hoothoot had extended a foot and knocked off the receiver, and now Falkner looked a little closer its eyes were clearly saying _'talk to him, idiot!'_

Morty had heard the clatter. He knew. Falkner exhaled a long breath, silently cursing the Pokémon, and lifted the phone to his ear. His pulse was hammering a harsh rhythm beneath his skin, as if trying to burst his very veins.

"…Morty," he said, and suddenly felt a little better.

* * *

In the end, Falkner had _known _it was coming, but in reality it all boiled down to timing, as things in life so often do. A miracle can save millions if it happens when people need it most, just as a catastrophe can _end _millions if it strikes when backs are turned. Timing, Falkner was learning, was everything.

Looking back, the two would later wonder whether or not Morty turning up on Falkner's doorstep that very weekend was a blessing or a disaster, but at the time, all Falkner could manage was a surprised-

"Oh."

"Oh?" Morty echoed, before offering him a sheepish, lopsided smile. "That sounds very ominous. I thought you wanted this…?"

A long silence stretched between them, and Falkner felt his face heat up. He had thought about it more than he would ever admit aloud - going out with Morty, off to show him the better aspects of Violet City - but he had never suspected it would be so soon. But Morty was _there, _looking as calm and unruffled as ever, with a teasing grin that was even shown in his eyes.

_Sincere, _Falkner thought, completely bewildered. He hadn't been smiled at like that for a while.

"Falkner…?" The grin wavered a little and Morty backed off a step, gesturing over his shoulder. "If it's a bad time, it's alright - really, I can just-"

"No!" Falkner blurted, and if his face wasn't red before, it most certainly was now. "No, I mean - no. It's fine. You just took me by surprise, that's all." He stopped himself before he could add a 'please don't go'. He had embarrassed himself enough already, and Morty had only been there for a minute. "It's good to see you," he settled on instead, trying for casual but knowing he was utterly failing.

Morty didn't seem to care. "That's a relief," he said, before raising both his palms in his defence. The sheepish look was back. "I'm sorry it's so soon, but we never _did _work out a date and time. I should have called, but it's been quiet over in Ecruteak and I figured this evening might be good. So here I am," he added, making a wide gesture with his hands, "to pick you up."

Falkner bit down on a choking noise, and they both cringed in perfect unison. There to 'pick him up' indeed. They weren't a pair of school kids off on a date.

"Sorry, sorry…" Morty rubbed the back of his neck. "That was bad - I didn't mean-" He stopped himself, breathing out a long sigh and slowing the rushed pace of his words. When he started again, his voice was even. "Falkner - you are going to laugh so hard when I tell you. Seriously. Now come on," he reached out and lightly touched Falkner's shoulder, "let's get going."

Falkner paused, pulse fluttering at the brief physical contact, before nodding and turning to grab his jacket and keys. Unexpected or not, it was _Morty _and Falkner had to hold it together. This was an amazing chance. He couldn't help but wonder; what was it that Morty wanted to tell him? What was his big explanation?

"Hey," Morty said, as Falkner turned to shut the front door behind him. There was a hand on his shoulder again; Falkner felt his skin prickle hot under the weight of it. Maybe Morty could sense his nervousness? "It's okay. We're friends, yeah?" Falkner turned, and there was the smile again - telling him that everything was alright.

"Yeah," said Falkner, still not quite believing his luck, and firmly told himself that it was enough as he followed Morty down the steps.

* * *

His dilemma, really, had been exactly whereabouts to take him.

Morty was someone who, if Falkner's assumptions were correct, often spent time in Goldenrod - the sprawling, busy, lively city that it was - and even Ecruteak had nightlife worth speaking of; albeit with traditional music floating down narrow streets, and paper lanterns of every colour hanging on shop fronts. Violet on the other hand… it was quiet in comparison. Still.

Falkner often wondered whether the Gym Leaders would eventually become mere fixtures of the cities they lived in. Just like Goldenrod, Whitney was loud, obnoxiously cheerful and had a kind of hyperactive energy that went unmatched by anyone Falkner had ever encountered before. And then Morty - he had an otherworldly sort of calm about him, and a strange elegance that Falkner would not have expected in a man. Ecruteak was subtly beautiful, and so was Morty; a trait that didn't waver even when rocked by disaster, the two of them would later discover, but whilst Falkner was aware of the Burned Tower, he had no way of possibly knowing about their own future when he took Morty to see Violet that evening.

Violet City was not Morty or Whitney. It was more _Falkner _than the local Gym Leader himself would care to admit; more in the sense that everything seemed oddly _muted, _than anything else. It was almost perpetually static, and the people who walked the streets were mere ripples across the surface of the water; nothing would ever be able to truly displace that stillness. Violet had its image, and was stuck with it.

But, underneath it all, there was nothing off or unnatural about it; there was peace to be found here, an inner tranquillity that people never knew they had until they visited, and even though their city wasn't perhaps as exciting as Goldenrod or as striking as Ecruteak, the people were content.

Violet was happy, whilst Falkner was decidedly not.

If his city had true serenity beneath its surface, Falkner's stoicism was mostly a well-built façade that had followed him doggedly through just about everything. It had made making friends close to impossible, keeping family even more difficult, and in the end his only relations for ages had been strictly business; as Leader, he came in to contact with many people, and yet it was like he was somehow numb to them.

The surface of the water might appear unspoilt, but beneath there were rolling undercurrents, ready and waiting to knock Falkner's legs out from underneath him and pull him under to drown.

It was something he couldn't deny; as he stole a quick glance at Morty's face, bathed in the glow of the stone lanterns as they stood on one of the bridges leading up to the Sprout Tower, he knew that it wasn't a question of whether Morty approved of Violet. It was whether Morty approved of _Falkner._

There was something in him that was desperate to be liked - in a way that Falkner had never really felt before. Somewhere along the line, over the course of the past couple of weeks, Morty's opinion had become of monumental importance. But why? Would Falkner feel the same about Jasmine or Bugsy or Clair had he ran into _them _first at that Blackthorn hotel? Would he be so hungry for _their _friendship?

Morty turned to him, the soft light illuminating the curve of his face, and what was undoubtedly _affection _curled in Falkner's gut; an alien and frightening emotion after so long, but one he didn't really want to fight. Morty seemed to have a knack for doing strange things to his feelings.

"It's beautiful," Morty commented, and his gaze slipped back to the water; gold where the light touched the surface, but otherwise dark. Falkner couldn't help but agree - it was. Violet looked good at night. "And these," Morty reached out to touch a lantern, "remind me a little of home." His fingers slid over the rough stone. "There are shrines - in Ecruteak, I mean. Lots of them; mostly in the forest. They're not dissimilar to these. I think it's the shape."

Falkner wet his lower lip; the evening was cool and his mouth felt somewhat dry. "There are artists who represent spirits as lights," he offered, and Morty smiled.

"You're familiar with the concept of the afterlife?" he asked.

Falkner's mind flickered back to the Gastly, and he repressed the sudden urge to shudder. "I would prefer to concentrate my efforts into this plane of existence," he stated, his voice a little tight, but when Morty laughed he hurried to correct himself. "No offence meant," he said quickly, "of course, I… I know you're involved in that kind of area. But it's not for me."

"Ah, that's a real shame," Morty said, feigning disappointment, but when he looked sideways at Falkner there was a mischievous smile playing at his mouth. "So," he began teasingly, by way of changing the subject, "if we're not here to pay homage to the departed, what _have _you brought me out here for?"

_Er, _thought Falkner, _that's actually a very good question…_

Morty looked back over the water. "Is this a favourite spot of yours?" he asked, when Falkner didn't reply.

"Not particularly." Falkner leant forward onto the wooden rail, and rested his chin on his forearms. "I don't really go anywhere save the gym. Nowhere interesting anyway - I just thought this might be… I dunno, something to do." He cast Morty an apologetic look. "This isn't exactly Goldenrod, I'm afraid."

"It doesn't have to be," Morty told him gently, as if sensing his feelings of inadequacy. "Sometimes it's nice to slow down."

"Maybe." Falkner breathed a short laugh. "Just be careful that you don't find yourself slowing down so much that you're going _backwards_. There's always the risk." He furrowed his brow in thought. "I suppose we could go for a drink, if you wanted?"

Morty smiled at his tone. "Not a big drinker?"

"I don't," Falkner said simply.

"I've seen you drinking before. Goldenrod last year, then Blackthorn…"

Falkner allowed a pause. "…Non-alcoholic." He said it as if he were sharing a big secret, and almost flinched as Morty reached out and lightly plucked at the sleeve of his jacket; clearly indicating to what Falkner was wearing.

"For same reasons as you wear these…?" Morty asked.

Falkner blushed a little (hopeful that Morty couldn't see it in the darkness) and fiddled self-consciously with his clothing. "I've just never cared for drink, that's all. I prefer to have control over my own body. And the clothes, well, my father - he always dressed like this. It's very… uh, traditional, I know. Old-fashioned, maybe, but it's the way we've always been. I've thought about letting it go, but… habits, you know?"

_Rambling, _he thought, and stopped himself abruptly. He was surprised when Morty's easy smile widened.

"I like it, anyway," Morty told him. "It's good to be your own person. To do your own thing, and all that." That was a compliment, there was no doubt about it, but before Falkner could register it enough to be embarrassed, Morty moved to sit on the edge of the bridge; his legs dangling down so his shoes nearly brushed the water. "And it's okay. We can stay out here - nice to have a bit of a change."

He patted the wooden slats next to him, and Falkner floundered. "Er-"

"Come on, I don't bite." Morty grinned up at him. "Besides, there was something that I wanted to talk to you about - you remember? About… about what happened in the taxi."

Falkner sank down next to him, trying to remain casual. "It's alright, you know. Really - I know it was a bit weird-"

"It wasn't weird, Falkner," Morty reassured him, cutting him off. "Not at all, I just…" For the first time that evening he looked suddenly uncomfortable; staring down at his clasped hands. This time, the laugh sounded strained. "Ah - I don't even want to say it. It was stupid."

"I understand," Falkner said quickly, "it was too much? It's alright," he added again; he'd practically already forgotten about it. It was all worth it in the end, now that he was actually _there_;just talking with Morty and, more importantly, _enjoying _it.

Morty on the other hand, seemed adamant that Falkner would hear him out. "Please," he insisted, "just listen - it needs to be said. I acted terribly. I… I know it doesn't justify anything, but…" There was a brief pause. Falkner waited patiently, saying nothing. "…Well, as I said, things haven't been great back at home. Pretty awful, if I'm honest - no point in trying to cover it up. I haven't told anyone else yet. Haven't been able to." Morty stopped, biting at his lower lip, seemingly wondering whether or not he should continue.

Falkner held up his hands. "Don't feel that you have to. Morty - you don't owe me this. Everything's okay. I'm fine." He wasn't sure he even _wanted _to hear it, but the look on Morty's face… There was a big part of him that wanted to help with whatever issue the other Leader had, and if listening to Morty was the only thing he could do, then he would do his best.

It seemed that Morty would offer him that chance. "You know… about Eusine, don't you?"

Falkner nodded, and the impulse to fidget hit him along with the reminder. "I know you have a boyfriend, yes."

"Had," Morty said, and Falkner blinked.

"Sorry?" He wasn't sure he had heard him right.

"I had a boyfriend," Morty reiterated. "Eusine… he left, just before the meeting at Blackthorn." He shook his head, as if already regretting saying anything. "Look, I'm sorry - I shouldn't have said anything. I haven't told _anyone_, and you and me… It isn't fair to be burdening you with this when we hardly know each other. The thing is," he said quickly, as if trying to justify himself, "is that I was a little messed up. And when you… fell asleep on me, and then asked to meet up again, I…"

Morty hung his head, looking thoroughly ashamed with himself. Falkner frowned, not getting the point. "You…?" he prompted gently, not wanting to push it.

"I thought…" Morty began, and then said in a very small voice, "I thought that you were asking me out. As in - romantically."

_Oh my God… _Heat blossomed beneath Falkner's skin, and he _knew _that he was rapidly turning purple. He couldn't believe it - he had no idea. No idea that he'd made Morty that uncomfortable, and on top of that Morty had thought that he was… that he was like _that._

_Gay, _said the voice inside his head, and _why _did it always sound like Whitney? _The word is 'gay' Falkner, there's nothing wrong with it - you can use it._

Morty had thought he was gay. Even further, Morty had thought he was gay and asking him out. Falkner had given up on romance, but he had never even _considered _being with another man. He had always just dismissed it as being not right for him, but the thought of it… the two of them, together…

_You like it, _accused 'Whitney', and if she had a physical form she would be smiling from ear to ear, grinning like the fictional cat, her eyes narrowed to gleefully malevolent slits. Ridiculous, really; the girl had probably never been truly nasty in her life. _You do! I can tell! Stop denying it - your little act is getting boring._

A thought came unbidden to mind; if Morty had said yes, if there had been a shy confession and the holding of hands, if there had been a k-

A k-kiss-

And Falkner had to stop himself, realising with a sinking horror that the idea wasn't as off-putting as his instinct had always told him it would be. Pretty much the _opposite, _in fact; Morty was perfect. There was nothing not to like about him - if anything, Falkner _admired _him. Even in the vulnerable moment of admission, where Morty had recalled his mistake, Falkner had never met anyone so incredibly _together._

But that was just it. Just another messy case of hero-worship. Falkner wasn't attracted to Morty; not like that. He didn't have that sort of interest.

…Did he?

He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He could _see _Morty talking rather than hear him; he watched, as if from a great distance, as Morty made a nervous gesture with his hands, obviously in the middle of a frantic attempt to apologise.

"-lkner? A-are you alright?"

Falkner snapped back to reality. "Sorry?"

Morty looked decidedly miserable. "Are you alright? Falkner, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything - I just… wanted to make it right. I honestly do want to be friends and I just feel like we got off to such a bad start…" He stared up at him through his hair, his expression not unlike that of a guilty child. "I've scared you…?"

A pause. Falkner twisted his hands in the fabric of his trousers. "Maybe just a little," he admitted, and Morty's face fell. "But - not in the way you think!" he said quickly. "It's just… well, I don't go for guys. But that's really not the problem - honestly - I had no idea you weren't with Eusine anymore. I… I would _never…"_

"I know. I never meant to imply that you would go for someone already taken. I just… was in a bad place. And I jumped to conclusions."

A long silence stretched between them, and Falkner struggled for something to say. He could easily spend his time wallowing in his own confusion and self-pity, but there was clear sadness on Morty's face; it was obvious that the break-up had been incredibly tough on him. From what Falkner could remember, Morty and Eusine had been together for years.

"Morty," he said finally, quietly, "why haven't you talked to anyone else?"

Morty looked at him in confusion. "…talked to anyone about what, sorry?"

"About Eusine." Falkner's hand hovered in midair for a moment, and then settled lightly on Morty's shoulder. This was what people did to be comforting, wasn't it? "You need to talk to them. You haven't even told Whitney?"

A shake of the head. "No, I… I couldn't really work up the nerve…"

"You should." Falkner couldn't quite believe it - he was sitting there, giving sorted, self-possessed Morty advice. And about _letting people in, _of all things. The hypocrisy was thick in his mouth, but he struggled on. "You need to talk to them, otherwise they'll be asking questions later on. They'll want to know why he's never around, and that's just going to hurt even more." He swallowed, trying to alleviate the tight feeling in his throat. "Please," he said, "don't cause yourself any more pain."

Morty drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know what I'd say to them."

"Anything. Just let them know what's going on."

A small laugh, and the bare hint of a weak smile. "Out of everyone, Falkner… I land this all on you…"

Falkner shrugged. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger," he reasoned, and Morty shook his head.

"You're not a stranger, Falkner."

That just confirmed everything, really; the world had been tipped completely on its head, and everything logical had leaked out in the process. Falkner felt… somehow not quite himself; he had never imagined that he would be sat there, sharing such a tender moment with someone else. He had never thought himself to be the comforting type - he had always just assumed that he wasn't quite built for it. His personality wasn't the right sort.

But there, sat next to Morty, on the bridge in Violet City, Falkner had unwittingly stumbled upon a major personal breakthrough; he might not have anticipated the nature of their conversation, but it had happened. He hadn't thought he had the capacity to do what he was doing, and yet there he was. It was the first assumption of many to be completely deconstructed. The first surprise.

The second came directly afterwards; putting aside his own introspective fears and bewilderment over his _own _feelings, the hand still touching Morty twitched as if of its own accord. Slowly, Falkner inched closer, his arm moving awkwardly over Morty's back, until the careful weight of it was resting around Morty's shoulders. He wasn't used to this, but the act of trying seemed to matter more than ever. It felt like the right thing to do.

After a heartbeat, Morty relaxed sideways into the clumsy half-hug and the pair settled into silence; their problems weighing heavily on them, but with plenty of time to contemplate.


	6. Five

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Five

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Here we are - and I thought I'd never make it! XD Sickness does not make for a lot of writing, I shall admit, but this next chapter is here and ready to read. :) I really hope you guys enjoy. Just to inform you that there may or may not be a slight delay in my next update; I'm off travelling with some friends for the majority of August, but there'll be plenty of time to write upon my return. Hope everyone's having a great summer! :D

* * *

There was only one solid conclusion to be drawn; in the messy aftermath of the recent 'incidents' involving Eusine, it had finally happened. Morty had lost his mind.

_What were you _thinking_? _he had asked himself, the question stuck on repeat like a broken record. _What were you thinking? What were you-? What-? What-?_

He didn't know. But at the time it hadn't really mattered; he hadn't really thought about _anything _when he had spilled his guts to Falkner. It was a brief lapse of judgement, yes, but more than anything, he was just surprised that he hadn't seen his mistake sooner.

Morty had never known Falkner to be so… open. Understanding. It had instilled in Morty a sort of blind trust, and one that he would never call on under normal circumstances; he kept his secrets close. It was better to trust few and tell fewer - less chance of anything dangerous becoming public knowledge.

That said, looking back over the past few days, everything else seemed suddenly pale in comparison. Everything else seemed insignificant next to Eusine. The Legendary fanatic had always had that effect. Even if he didn't realise it, he had become the centre of Morty's _everything _and now he was gone… well. Morty was off-balance. And he'd managed to stumble right into Falkner.

Somehow, the Bird Trainer had become involved in the sorry mess that was the break-up, and Morty wasn't quite sure how it had happened. Or, more worryingly, if he even _minded _anyway…

It was probably yet another mistake, coming to Goldenrod as he was. A simple phone call would have surely sufficed - he and Whitney had caught up over the phone plenty of times before now - but when he rang, she had been clearly delighted to hear from him and had immediately insisted that they meet up. He should have seen it coming, really; of course she would demand to see him. His sense of reason told him that it would probably be easier to talk if they were face-to-face, anyway.

Morty knew for a fact that she'd be heartbroken upon hearing his news, but there was a part of him (small and selfish and undeniably _frightened_) that didn't want to see the look on her face. And that wasn't the sole reason for his discomfort - the little bar Whitney had chosen to meet up in had seemed faintly familiar at the door, but by the time Morty had pulled up a seat at the table in the corner, the penny had dropped. He must have been incredibly distracted not to recognise it straight away, but it was Whitney's chosen location after last year's meeting. The word 'awkward' seemed to spring to mind a lot, as of late.

As did 'guilty'. It was like he couldn't put a foot right. He felt bad, Whitney would feel bad, and no doubt so did-

The door opened; the brass bell attached to the frame ringing a cheerful note into the air as a familiar figure pushed her way inside. Morty recognised her straight away (her aura tended to precede her), but there was a second's delay before a cry went up behind the bar, and Morty couldn't help but grin as Whitney exchanged an enthusiastic high-five with the guy currently serving the customers-

"Whitney! It's been a while!" Morty had almost forgotten about the whole 'local celebrity' thing, but Whitney didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. She probably got this sort of attention a lot when she was out meandering the streets, hopelessly lost. Having a terrible sense of direction demanded good community spirit.

"Ah, what can I say?" the girl grinned almost ruefully, shrugging her shoulders. "Gym business. It's been too long!"

"Your friend's over there," the bartender pointed, and Morty continued to pretend not to hear them. "Bit of a long face on him, mind. Don't worry; your drinks are on me. Anything I can get you right now, or…?"

Whitney shook her head. "I'll go and ask Mister Grumpy-Guts first," she said with a wink, skipping in Morty's direction. "Be right back!" Morty indulged her by keeping his gaze fixed glassily to the bar; she liked to think she was being stealthy. He watched as the bartender smiled, and went back to serving the young man still waiting for his drinks.

Morty felt a brief wave of nervousness unfurl in the pit of his stomach. Whitney hadn't given the other customer a second look (most likely assumed he was just some stranger), but-

"_Mortyyy!" _Whitney trilled from somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear, and in a heartbeat there were arms around his neck and he being pulled backwards into a crushing hug. "I missed you!"

"Whit," Morty gasped as his air supply was cut off, "W-Whit, _choking_-!"

"Ah! Sorry!" She let him go, hopping up and down a little on the spot. Her words came out in a flurry. "It's just - argh, it's been _ages _and I thought you'd forgotten about me and I was going to call myself but-"

"Whitney," Morty laughed, placing a hand on her head, and the girl immediately stopped bouncing. "Hey - slow down! I missed you too. Come here." He opened his arms in invitation, and she swept in for a proper embrace. "How've you been, Whit?"

"Very good!" She broke the hug to slide into the seat next to him, looking a little sheepish for nearly strangling him. "Even better for seeing you, though." She looked about her, and bent forwards across the table as if revealing a dire secret. "It's been a little quiet," she said in a hushed voice, and Morty stifled a laugh.

"Never!" he declared, feigning absolute horror. "And here I thought there was no such thing as a dull moment with you!"

Whitney poked him in the side. "Oi! You'd be surprised. I was glad when you called - I know this is going to sound weird, but things haven't been much fun as of late. I reckon all the Trainers are getting lost on their way from Azalea 'cause it's been seriously _empty._" She shrugged her shoulders again, tugging thoughtfully at a lock of hair. "Well, more than usual, anyway."

"You're lucky." Morty offered her a small smile, inwardly steeling himself for the conversation he _knew _had to happen. "I'd go for a bit of peace and quiet, myself," he said, still trying to think of a way to bring up the subject. Dropping in, 'oh yeah, and Eusine's gone', just didn't seem appropriate, somehow.

"Nah, you don't know what it's like!" Whitney pouted, slumping a little in her seat. "You're all the way over in Ecruteak, but at least you have Eusine; you guys are keeping busy with Soo… Sookoo…"

"Suicune?" Morty said, quietly, trying to ignore the way something in his chest lurched at the thought of Eusine.

"Suicune, yeah, and… well… Nothing's really been happening here!" Whitney exclaimed, making a brief gesture with her hands to indicate her frustration. Morty had to smile; she was still young. She had no idea what the world was really like; everything was still bright and exciting and happy.

…He had to tell her. He had to. She was most probably his most trusted friend, for all her naivety, and he couldn't keep lying. Not when the lie in question was so huge; it bore down on him, like a pressure he just had to relieve. It had been too long.

"Whit," he began, "there's something I really need to tell you…"

Whitney looked confused for a moment, and then the expression melted into complete perplexity as the clink of glasses on the table cut Morty off.

"I'm sorry, Whitney," offered Falkner, twisting his fingers nervously, "but I wasn't sure what you'd want - I got you lemonade, I think that's what I've seen you drink, but… er…" He trailed off unhappily, clearly worried he'd chosen the wrong moment. He'd been hanging back at the bar all the while; Whitney had walked right past him when she'd gone to talk to the bartender, and Falkner had stayed put afterwards to allow her and Morty time to talk.

Morty wanted the ground to swallow him up. It had seemed like such a good idea, inviting Falkner along - the more he got to know the other man, the more it was difficult _not _to like him - but now… The whole 'moral support' thing didn't seem worth it. Whitney hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with the Bird Trainer.

"You haven't told her yet…?" Falkner asked Morty, his voice small.

"Told me what?" If Whitney had been confused before, she was now in danger of doing herself psychological damage by thinking too much. "Morty?"

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the low buzz of the few other patrons in the bar. No one paid the three any mind; if they had, they might have been able to _feel _the tension coming from the little group in the corner of the room.

It was Falkner who broke it. "Uh, I think I'm going to go get some air," he said, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry - that was horrible timing - I'll come back in a bit when you've had time to talk…" He dipped his head hurriedly and turned to walk away, and Morty's heart leapt into his mouth when Whitney reached out and caught the Violet Leader by the sleeve-

A ridiculous image sprung to mind; Whitney and Falkner, all-out brawling in that little Goldenrod bar, whilst blissfully drunken locals formed a cheering circle around them. Morty's hand instinctively shot out to stop whatever it was she was going to do - she'd always been too impulsive for her own good - but what she said next surprised all of them-

"Hawkner? Uh, thank you."

Falkner's visible eye widened a little. "…Excuse me?"

"For the lemonade," Whitney clarified, blushing as red as her hair, "thank you. I'm sorry - you just surprised me. It's… it's nice to see you," she added, and Morty felt a strange swell of what had to be pride.

Falkner mumbled something Morty didn't quite hear, managing another half-bow before scurrying off through the door; quite obviously relieved to be leaving. Morty watched his retreating back, and tried to ignore the way Whitney's stare was practically burning holes into the side of his head.

It wasn't working. Her eyes implored him to explain as he turned to face her. "Morty?" she asked, sounding every bit as bewildered as she looked. "Morty - what's wrong? Why is Hawkner here with you?"

Perhaps it was her earnest dismay, or the weight of what he was about to tell her, but Morty found himself having to bite the inside of his cheek; crying would just be even more humiliating. "I'm so sorry, Whit," he began, wringing his hands together under the table. "But, uh… well, I guess I should start from the beginning…"

Whitney nodded slowly. "Okay," she replied, offering her hand, palm up, for him to hold.

* * *

Even the adventurous at heart need consistencies in life, and Whitney was no exception. For her, she knew that she could always trust in three things; her parents, her Pokémon, and Morty. Three fixed, immovable safety-nets that would always be there for her no matter what. The Gym could be burning down, there could be rioting in Goldenrod, the end of the world could be imminent - it didn't matter. Even when things got crazy, there would always be someone to rely on.

Morty was deservedly one of those people and, despite an initial distrust, so was Eusine by way of extension, (Morty had always liked to joke about the time Whitney had given Eusine the third degree over dinner, and Eusine had ended up distracting her with a card trick). Whitney had always assumed that Morty and Eusine would be just as they were, forever.

Childish, now she thought about it; sat across from Morty in that little Goldenrod bar, knowing full well that Falkner was just outside 'getting some air' and that Eusine wouldn't be going back to Ecruteak any time soon.

And Morty… There was an almost physical pain in her chest - a sudden need to cuddle him to her and tell him that everything was going to be alright. It was all very _weird; _Morty was the one who looked after _her. _It was the way they had always worked - Morty was self-assured and calm and could always put a situation into perspective. He didn't need looking after, not like Whitney did. But then, he had Eu-

Oh. Of course.

"Morty…" His hand was still in hers, and his fingers were rubbing gently at the pulse-point, as if to be soothing. She wondered who was supposed to be comforting who. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't." Morty's eyes were shiny and slightly reddened in the warm glow of the lights. "I don't know why," he admitted, looking down at the tabletop. " I just couldn't bring myself to say anything - not to anyone. Well… that was before…" He trailed off, casting a look back over his shoulder at the door. There had been no sign of Falkner for a good ten minutes, and Whitney briefly wondered if he had decided to just run away without telling them.

"Hawkner already knows, doesn't he?" she asked, keeping her tone as soft as possible to let Morty know she wasn't angry. She couldn't understand why Morty would tell Falkner and not her - he hadn't been on friendly terms with the other man for long, and before that hadn't thought much of him at all - but she couldn't bring herself to be hurt. Not when Morty clearly had it much worse.

Whitney didn't know it at the time, but in the space of a few minutes, she'd grown up just that little bit more.

"Yeah, yeah he knows." Morty looked thoroughly ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, Whit - I don't know what happened. I went to see him after Blackthorn; I had to go to apologise, there was an incident on the way home… I dunno. My head was still in a mess after Eusine left, and I said some pretty stupid stuff. But, I had to explain myself, and…" He shrugged hopelessly, hanging his head. "I don't know _why _I did it, but Falkner's been really great about the whole thing. Really."

Whitney nodded, biting her lip. "He seems like a decent guy," she allowed, "still a weirdo, but he's okay." A sudden thought came to her, and she very nearly recoiled from the fingers still clasping her own. "Wait - you and Hawkner, you're not…? Are you two…?"

"What?" Morty looked up in shock, before shaking his head rapidly. "No - God, no. It's not like that. We're just friends."

Whitney nodded, grasping for something to fill the sudden silence. "Okay. Not that… not that there would be anything _wrong _with that. I mean, if you were… He's alright, I mean…"

Morty breathed a short laugh. He looked almost relieved underneath the sadness, and the hand holding hers let go to ruffle her hair. "It's alright, Whit," he said. "I know he takes some getting used to, but I really think we can all be friends once you two get to know each other. He's not half as bad as everyone thinks."

She could accept that. She would make her own opinion of him, but if Falkner had been as understanding as Morty said he had, well… he'd been there when Morty needed him, and had to count for something. "Okay," she said. "I'll do my best. We all need our friends." Her brow crumpled, and she had to look away herself. "Can I… can I say something?"

"Whit, of course you can."

"I'm sorry, but…" She took a deep breath and tried again. "I know he's been so unfair, and you don't deserve what's happened at all, but… I'm actually really going to miss Eusine." Her eyes flickered back up to his face, quickly trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was kind.

"I know," he told her, "I do already. I've been missing him ever since he left."

She felt she might even cry herself. "Morty…"

The bell rang again, and a dark head peered around the doorway. It seemed Falkner hadn't hotfooted it back to Violet, after all. He seemed unsure of himself, as if wondering if it was okay to rejoin them, and Morty beckoned him over. "Come on, you - it's safe."

Falkner wet his lips, still a little edgy. "All out in the open?" he asked cautiously, and Morty nodded.

"Yeah. Sorted." Morty heaved a long sigh, and gave a small smile as Falkner took the seat across from them. "You were right," he added. "I do feel a little better. In a way. I think I just needed to… acknowledge what happened before I could get it off my chest."

Another long silence. They were becoming something of a regular occurrence; Whitney wondered if it was just Falkner's presence. For once in her life she was completely stumped - she _wanted _to say something, anything to make it all better, but the words eluded her and there was nothing to be said.

In the end it was Morty who spoke again. "Eusine's gone." Even if Whitney had been stuck for words, it only took two of Morty's to draw a metaphorical line under everything. They hung heavily in the air between them - stifling and almost demanding a response - but there was nothing left to say.

"…Yes," Whitney eventually settled on, letting the enormity of it all sink in. Things had undoubtedly changed.

* * *

Ever since that last meeting in Blackthorn, Falkner's life really had taken a turn for the strange. Before then, never once would he even have _considered _the idea that he could be doing this; back in Goldenrod, invited by Morty himself to go with him to visit Whitney. And _liking _it, to boot.

Remembering the last time he was here only intensified the feeling; if he didn't know better, it was _gratitude _that had suddenly clogged his throat when he got Morty's call, but walking through that door again… it was indescribable. He was beyond lucky. Somewhere along the line, things had stopped going wrong and now Morty (beautiful, kind-hearted Morty) was explaining to his best friend the reason why he was newly-single…

_Stop, _he thought firmly, feeling the telltale fluttering in his chest - the same wavering of his pulse that he always seemed to get just recently. It seemed to have a number of different triggers; looking at Morty, talking to Morty, listening to Morty, thinking about Mor-

Falkner clearly had a problem. A serious, serious problem.

_What is this? _He looked across the table, where Whitney had an arm around Morty's shoulder, and remembered a time - not too long ago - where _he _had done that for the Ecruteak Leader. Somehow, though, the picture looked a little different; Whitney was the epitome of girlish innocence, and to any onlooker she might have been comforting a sibling or family friend. She was most definitely _not _inhaling Morty's scent, and there weren't goose bumps on her arms from the contact…

Whitney was being a good friend. Falkner had been guiltily indulging _himself._

A wave of shame assaulted his gut at the thought; that was it. He had wanted to comfort Morty, for the chance to be close to him. It was the reason for all the weird, knee-jerk reactions he was suffering; he wasn't just _lonely. _He was in love.

He had managed to fall for Morty.

Realisation seemed to weight his limbs, and the sound of shattering rang out over Morty and Whitney's murmured conversation as Falkner's suddenly lax fingers let go of his glass-

A sharp pain bit into his palm, as a shard sliced his hand open.

"_Falkner." _Falkner looked up, to see Morty staring right at him at his bloodied hand. "God - what are you like?"

"I… I'm sorry - I'm okay, doesn't really hurt-"

"You're _bleeding _- have you guys got a first aid kit here?"

Falkner shook his head. "Really - not as bad as it looks-" he protested, before a new voice cut him off-

"Of course we have; leave the glass to me - just leave it - and I'll go and get you the kit…" It was the guy from behind the bar. From over his shoulder, Falkner heard his disappearing footsteps as he rushed out back. When he looked down at his hand, his sleeve was stained an ugly red.

"Are you okay?" Morty asked, and Falkner's gaze flickered up to find concerned purple eyes looking directly into his own.

"Yeah," he lied, quickly, despite feeling a little light-headed. Over Morty's shoulder, Whitney was pale-faced and silent as she surveyed the damage. She opened her mouth as if about to say something, but was cut off when the bartender returned…

"Here, take this, it'll help if you clean the blood off first-"

"Don't worry." Morty waved him off with a smile. "We've all had first-aid training. Just in case anyone is injured at the gym. Precautionary measure."

"Right well," the bartender pressed the box into Morty's hands, "it looks like a surface-cut, but just be careful." He looked up at Whitney, who smiled weakly at him. "Looks like it's just you and me for the moment, Whit! No, no - don't worry about the glass, I got it…"

Falkner let himself be steered off to the toilets, where Morty stood him next to the sink and left the green box on the side. The door shut behind them, and it dawned on Falkner that, glass and blood and pain aside, they were completely alone.

When Morty started the tap running and gentle hands took Falkner's own, Falkner was convinced it was worth it.

"Doesn't look like there's any glass left in there…" Morty mused, moving them a little further into the light overhead. "Just need to clean away this blood…"

"I'm sorry," Falkner croaked, hating how tight his voice sounded.

"Hmmm?" Morty looked up from the cut, surprised. "Sorry? Don't be - it's alright. We'll just get you cleaned up, and then no harm done!" It seemed, however, that he wasn't above a teasing wink. "I had no idea you were so clumsy, mind…"

Falkner huffed. "I'm _not,_" he protested. "Not usually, anyway - I don't know what I was thinking, to be honest." He hissed as Morty ran a small towel under the water, and then gently began to clean away the blood. Beneath the crimson, the skin around the cut was flushed a duller red.

Morty hummed a little as he worked - a low, soothing tune that Falkner didn't recognise. He watched him; every careful swipe of the towel, the way he would periodically bite down on his lower lip in thought… It was almost _nice_. In a weird sort of way. At least, it _would _have been had he not managed to split his hand open.

"Do you feel alright now?" Falkner asked, and the humming stopped.

Morty smiled. "Shouldn't I be asking _you _that?"

"Well, uh… I mean… about Eusine…" Falkner tried again, not quite believing his own nerve. He felt suddenly a little faint again. Of course Morty wasn't feeling _alright; _it was such a stupid question to ask someone who had-

"A little better, yes," Morty's voice cut into his thoughts, and the Ecruteak Leader continued to dab gently at the injury. "For telling Whitney. It's nice not having to lie. You were right - Falkner. Keeping everything bottled up inside isn't healthy."

They looked down at Falkner's hand. The blood had been cleaned away to reveal possibly the smallest cut that Falkner had ever seen.

"That's it?" he asked in disbelief. "That's all?" He had been expecting something much more gruesome.

Morty laughed at the look of confusion on his face. "It happens," he said, tilting Falkner's palm to get a better look. "Don't worry - it's only superficial. A fair amount of blood from a tiny injury." Their eyes met and he laughed again. His smile was even in his eyes. "You look almost disappointed?"

"Maybe I am," Falkner joked weakly, doing his best to smile back.

"Awww." Morty's eyes lit up teasingly. "Do you need me to kiss it better?" he asked, and there was an edge of good-natured humour to his tone.

A split-second of realisation, and Falkner's face reddened before he could stop himself. An image sprung unbidden to mind, and _wouldn't it be great if Morty did just that? _Falkner could almost _see _it - the two of them, sharing a tender first kiss away from prying eyes…

He looked pointedly away, cringing. His pulse thundered in his ears.

"Falkner?" Morty looked genuinely worried, but Falkner couldn't bear to hold his gaze for long. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick?" Falkner tried to shake his head, but the movement was sluggish. He was briefly aware of hands catching him around the waist, and then he was carefully lifted to sit on the counter, as effortlessly as if he were a doll.

Morty was babbling something about blood loss and it being perfectly normal to feel ill, but the words didn't sink in - Falkner let them roll over him as he watched the red of Morty's mouth, the movement of his lips as he spoke…

He wished Morty would kiss him. Just once.

_Do it, _prodded a voice inside his head, shrill and insistent. _He won't, so you do it. Do it. Now, now-_

Falkner reached out with his injured hand, ignoring the sobering spike of pain as he wrapped it around the back of Morty's neck, and pulled him forward and down into a kiss.


	7. Six

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Six

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Hello there! :) I'm so incredibly excited to be back - whoever thought missing a month's update could feel so very long? Very sorry for the wait, but it's been great getting back into this fic, and I should be back on track from here on in. (Well, until the next disaster anyway!) :D Thanks for your patience, and welcome to your next chapter!

* * *

Eusine had always enjoyed a challenge, and it appeared that his latest endeavour could well have been the biggest one yet. Suicune was proving to be the very embodiment of the term 'elusive', as well as 'problematic', 'frustrating' and a few other choice words that Eusine was too well-mannered to even consider uttering-

"_Fuck-" _Barely a murmur, but still undeniably a curse, and one that was perfectly justified, considering the unnatural angle at which his leg bent at the knee.

Blood rushed to Eusine's head and he swayed a little, feeling unsteady even in the sitting position he had landed in. Looking at his leg made him dizzy, made worse by the terrible pain lancing from the injury. He'd broken bones before, but only when he was a child; he didn't recall it hurting _this _badly…

He leant his head back against the rock and breathed out through his nose, gritting his teeth against the throb of damaged flesh and bone. This wasn't how it was supposed to go; he had been _so close, _too. Somehow it just made it worse - one moment Suicune was there, _looking right at him_, and the next Eusine was tumbling backwards down the mountainside.

He'd lost his balance, and ruined his progress. Not to mention his leg.

…It would be okay. Pewter ran a mountain rescue service; it would be okay. He would be just fine. It would all be-

"_Ahhhhh…" _he breathed, sucking in air through his teeth. The smallest shift in position sent waves of pain washing over him; his knee the white-hot epicentre.

Eusine was better than this. He could deal with pain. Had plenty of experience with it, looking back; he's always been too reckless for his own good. Lack of care was always his undoing.

He remembered the sting of boiling water, the night that he had managed to burn himself while making tea. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now; back when he had first (quite unofficially) moved in with Morty. There had been shouting, yes-

"_You need to pay attention to what you're doing - you could have really hurt yourself you idiot-!"_

-but it had only been because Morty was scared, and after barely a heartbeat there had been running water and the soothing press of a wet cloth. It had amounted to a superficial burn, but he had never forgotten the look on Morty's face, or the gentleness of his hands…

Eusine looked at his own. Taking the tip of a finger in his mouth, he pulled the white glove away to reveal the scarred skin beneath; a clumsy blotch of smooth pink where his hand connected to his wrist. He ran a thumb across it, almost absent-mindedly feeling the cotton of his remaining glove against the scar tissue, and forced himself to think _outside _of the situation.

Anything would do. If he looked at his leg again, he was certain he would either vomit or pass out. Maybe both, if he was really unlucky.

Eusine studied the haphazardly-healed skin, and thought of Morty. It wasn't for the first time, either; he'd had plenty of time to consider their… unusual circumstances, mostly in the time _not _spent chasing Suicune up mountainsides, (and judging by this most recent mishap, falling back down them). He'd thought about Morty and priorities and ambition. He'd thought about Suicune. He'd thought about what was important.

It all boiled down to what was _best; _he couldn't stop loving Morty, but he couldn't stop chasing Suicune. Not when he was so close. It wasn't fair on Morty; dealing with the long absences, nights spent alone, being stuck back at the gym while Eusine was off in hot pursuit of the Legendary Pokémon… It didn't make sense to keep stringing him along.

_But then, _Eusine thought, determinedly _not _looking at his leg, _when has any of this really made sense at all?_

There was a part of him - a small part, but it was there nonetheless - that couldn't help but feel that it was borderline ridiculous; putting himself and those around him through so much grief, just to get close to a Pokémon so mysterious it could vanish off the face of the earth and no one would notice. Was it all worth it? Was it really worth Morty…?

With a frown, Eusine squashed the thought; forcibly putting it out of mind. He didn't need doubts. Not now - not when he had come so far.

It lingered; tenaciously digging in its claws and refusing to let go. Eusine sighed a long breath, wincing at another twinge in his leg; almost as if his body was reminding him of the damage. Every time he tried to forget, there was Morty - sad and alone back in Ecruteak, running the gym and trying to go on as if nothing had happened. Waiting for Eusine.

It wasn't like there had exactly been _closure. _Walking out should have been enough, but had Eusine ever really _left _Morty? Had he ever said he wouldn't be back? There hadn't really been time for words; it was all so messy, and he was in such a rush… Eusine wasn't even sure how he felt, and he had a feeling Morty had to be worse. Kind-hearted, sentimental Morty.

Probably at home; trapped, miserable and unable to move on.

Eusine leaned his head back against the rock again, and not for the first time was acquainted with the feeling of complete shame.

* * *

Falkner had never met Eusine before, but he was certain he must have been _mad _to have ever given this up. Either utterly insane, or an even bigger idiot than Falkner himself, (and judging by this latest turn of events, that was saying a _lot_).

Previously unresponsive lips moved against his own - just a soft, barely-there pressure against his mouth - and Falkner was sure it must have been a case of _both. _If he were Eusine, (as incredibly _lucky _as Eusine), he would have taken more care. Whatever it took, just to steal another kiss…

And what a kiss it was - no matter that it was close-mouthed and that Morty was stiff as a board; shoulder muscles tense under Falkner's bloodied hand as the Violet Leader adjusted his grip, pulling Morty closer. He tilted his head slightly, entirely lost in the moment, mostly inexperienced but weirdly not nervous in the slightest. He was frozen in a moment where, for once, everything was good and perfect and just as it should be. It just felt right.

It was chaste and firm and _final; _the best admission Falkner could ever have made, even with words. It said, _'I like you'_, and Morty was frozen in shock, eyes screwed shut and pulse hammering beneath his skin - Falkner could feel the unsteady beat as he rubbed the exposed nape of his neck, trying for comforting. He wanted him to enjoy this as much as he was.

He earnestly hoped it was working, with what little of his brain had not turned into mush. It was no time for rational thought - he could curse his own stupidity later. It was happening and Morty's hands were on his face and a stab of _something _surged through his gut at the thought of them; the picture they must have made…

Kissing in a public toilet, like some sort of illicit affair, to be kept under wraps. Strangely deviant - _naughty, _even.

_You're bleeding, _Whitney's voice said, and Falkner had to stop himself from breaking the kiss. There'd surely have been more screaming had she _really _burst in on them; it was just his internal monologue again. _You're delirious and now you're making a fool of yourself. God - I don't know why I even put up with you…_

And she was right. Of course she was - Morty didn't want him. The hands on his face were gently pushing him _away, _not holding him there; there would be confusion, and a tentative knock-back, but underneath, Morty would want to run. Falkner was taking advantage and their friendship was clearly ruined.

The moment was broken.

"I'm sorry," Falkner said breathlessly, breaking the kiss. He couldn't even bear to look Morty in the eyes - he'd been such an idiot. Constantly pushing things too far. It just wasn't _like _Falkner; Morty seemed to instil a weird kind of courage in him.

_But what good is courage, if all you do is step over other people's boundaries?_

"I'm so, so sorry, Morty… I…" His mouth opened and closed on a brief, choking silence, unable to say anything to justify what he'd done. Morty's own lack of a response was disconcerting, to say the least, and when Falkner did finally lift his gaze, he was met with a look of complete and utter bewilderment.

"Falkner…" Morty managed, and his brow creased as if he were trying to decipher a particularly challenging puzzle. In a sense, he was; Falkner was a mystery even to himself. There was no figuring it out.

"I…" Falkner started. He would at least try, even if he knew it was hopeless. "I don't know…"

_What? I don't know why I act the way I do? Why I keep messing up?_

_I think I love you, Morty… I don't know why, but I do…_

Morty didn't reply; emotions warring for room in his expression. Perplexity and just a tiny bit of hurt, like he had recalled some far-off memory he would rather forget. He was shutting down; his eyes were closed and his arms came up to fold themselves over his waist.

He was bigger than Falkner, but suddenly looked oddly small. The realisation sent an unpleasant chill up the Flying Trainer's spine.

"I, um… I'm sorry. I should just leave," Falkner supplied, trying and failing to stop the shaking in his knees as he slid off the countertop. He swayed a little, still dizzy from earlier, and made a break for the door-

The world tilted, and he saw Morty move as if by instinct. Hands grabbed him by the shoulders as the floor was suddenly a little too close for comfort; the cold tile barely an inch away from Falkner's nose.

He'd tripped. And just when he thought making an even bigger idiot of himself would be impossible. Humiliation trickled over him, and Falkner resisted the urge to shrug off the supportive hands, sink to the floor and try to disappear. Yes - that sounded like a brilliant idea. It would probably be the smartest move he'd made in weeks; leaving Morty alone was the kindest thing to do, considering the mess he had managed to create already…

"Falkner," Morty said again, and there was a certain _tone _to his voice that Falkner found difficult to decipher. Slightly strained, but it was there - pity, maybe, with just a hint of exasperated affection. The hands were lifting him again, and before he realised what was going on, he was braced against Morty's chest.

His voice wavered as he spoke, and he couldn't help but cringe again. "Morty… what-?"

"It's alright, just… try not to pass out on me." A nervous little laugh caught in Morty's chest. "I don't know what I'll tell Whit if I have to drag you out of here unconscious."

Falkner blushed at the thought. _'Falkner kissed me and then fainted,' _didn't exactly have a nice ring to it. He could imagine the look on Whitney's face - that would most certainly destroy all the progress they had made. He and Whitney had been tolerating each other just _fine _up until now, but knowing that he had kissed her best friend, (and in his moment of vulnerability, to boot), would probably have her after his blood. It was safer if she was clueless.

"Tell her I slipped," Falkner offered, as the room started to spin again. He screwed his eyes shut, pressing his face into Morty's collarbone to try and steady himself. Morty was all but holding him up; supporting most of his weight, though his feet were on the floor. Later, Falkner would worry that he had literally become such a burden to Morty, but at the time, there were more pressing issues… "I'm sorry."

Sorry. The word had never felt so inadequate, but he needed to be heard.

Morty shook his head. "It's alright - I understand."

Falkner looked up so sharply that his headache physically spiked. "I… you do?" _I don't even understand _myself, _how can you make sense of it…?_

"Of course I do." There was an odd look in Morty's eyes - distant. As if he were telling a pretty lie to make the best of an ugly situation; papering over the cracks. "You've hurt yourself, Falkner - you didn't know what you were doing. It's alright." His words might have seemed forced, but his hands were earnest; stopping Falkner from falling again, rubbing soothingly over his back.

_Believe me, _Morty's hands said, and Falkner knew that it was for his sake. Morty knew how badly Falkner had messed up, and was letting him get away with it.

Shame, regret and _relief. _Falkner wasn't really sure how to feel.

"I'm sorry," he said again, as if saying it would make it all better. "I'm so, so sorry." Then, honestly, "I don't know what came over me. I really don't."

"It's okay," Morty reassured. "You were confused. Confused and disorientated and… well, generally mixed-up. It happens."

_Does it? Does it really? _"Okay."

"Okay," Morty breathed, and then added, "_Are _you okay?"

"Um…" No, he wasn't. He really, really wasn't, and it was all his own fault. Again. "Yes, I'm fine. Are you…?"

"Hmmm?"

"Sorry - uh, alright. Are you alright?"

Morty sighed, and then a hand was ruffling his hair. There it was again - tired affection. As if Falkner were a misbehaving child, caught about to take a crayon to the wallpaper. "Yeah, I'm good," Morty said, and Falkner found he could _tell _the difference between the lie and the truth - Morty might have been able to see right through him, but they had escaped unscathed. Falkner had been given a way out; a reprieve. A way to correct things.

Still, he knew very well that there was only so much redecorating a parent could take before the budding young artist was sent early to bed, and the colours locked away until further notice. He wasn't sure how much more pushing Morty could take, and he wasn't about to test his boundaries. Not when he'd come so close to… well. The thought made Falkner shudder.

As did the thought of the kiss, but that was an entirely different matter. Whitney would be on the other side of that door - watching for them from across the room - and it seemed necessary action to put the memory in a mental box and firmly mark it 'not now'.

He'd think about it later, (repeatedly, fantasize and speculate and indulge himself in the way those DVDs utterly failed to help with), _torture _himself over the thought, even, but still - that was for when he was alone. When he didn't have a friendship to salvage. The thought of losing Morty was, he had to admit, even more distressing than the embarrassment of the aborted kiss.

Speaking of which-

"Whitney," Morty was saying, "uh, she'll want to know if you're alright-"

"I won't say anything," Falkner cut in, raising his hands. He felt okay to stand upright now, although the idea of faking it just to hang onto Morty for a little longer was extremely tempting. "It'd just complicate things."

"Even more than already, you mean?" Morty laughed, and continued hurriedly when Falkner opened his mouth to apologise again, "Hey. No more 'I'm sorry', okay? It really is fine." He seemed to sense Falkner's dubiousness; felt it in his aura, no doubt. "Falkner - we're still friends.I like you a lot, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for all you've done for me. I don't want to lose what we have."

"I… I was worried I'd ruined things…"

"You haven't. As I said - I get it. It's okay." Morty took a small step back, shifting his grip to Falkner's forearms so he could look into his face. "Are you feeling alright, now? Still dizzy?"

Falkner shook his head, mute. _Probably best keep my mouth shut from here on in… Just in case… _Talking was clearly dangerous.

"Maybe some water," Morty continued, scooping up the first-aid kit and steering Falkner towards the door. "You still look a bit pale. Come on - we'll sit you down and get you a drink."

Whitney was looking right at them as they re-entered the bar, a questioning look in her eyes. _Don't say anything about the kiss, _Falkner mentally reminded himself, _not to anyone; _especially _not to Whitney. _He could just see it now: VIOLET'S LEGENDARY SEX PEST HARASSES INNOCENT MAN IN PUBLIC TOILET. No doubt the media would be more than happy to listen to Goldenrod's beloved poster child; Falkner would go from solitary nobody to insane stalker/sex addict before the night was over. Whitney's reputation (and temper) would make sure of that.

"Morty!" called Whitney, as they approached the table. "Is everything alright? You guys have been gone _ages _- I was starting to worry…"

"Just cleaning the cut, Whit - sorry about the wait," Morty said, before turning to Falkner. "Sit yourself here," he murmured, gently nudging Falkner into his seat, "and I'll go get you some water." Falkner watched him go, biting back another protest. He didn't particularly want to be left alone with Whitney if she was going to give him the third degree-

"Oh, _Hawkner_." Whitney's fingers brushed lightly over his bandaged hand, and she shook her head like an exasperated parent. "I reckon you're probably clumsier than I am! It's a good job Morty was here, eh?" she smiled, looking over at where Morty was standing at the bar. "I could never get the hang of it when we had our training, but he's always been a natural at that stuff for some reason. I can barely look after myself - he's _good _at taking care of people."

Falkner nodded, his throat feeling dry. "Yeah. Yeah he is."

"We'll just need to pick up the slack until… well, until he feels better about Eusine." Whitney paused, as if her next words tasted odd in her mouth. "You seem like a decent guy. He needs to be around people who care about him, who won't cause him any more grief."

Morty returned with a glass of water and a weak smile, and Falkner couldn't bring himself to look at him; staring instead at a lingering smudge of blood on the edge of the table.

* * *

It wasn't raining, not yet, but the clouds held its promise; hanging thick and dark and ominous over Ecruteak. An ill noise rumbled somewhere in the distance, and Morty watched as a sudden flash lit up behind the grey; the sky itself was unwell, and a storm was brewing. It probably wouldn't be long.

Morty slid the key into the lock, opened his front door and stepped into the empty house. He was greeted by silence, but he had been expecting it. Over time, it seemed that the impact of the crushing _quiet _was steadily lessening. Maybe eventually he would be able to forget, after all. Make his peace with everything.

At least, if he stopped messing up. Maybe it was just the more immediate issue that was detracting from the feeling of loneliness. Not only was there 'the situation with Eusine' to worry about, but now there was 'the situation with _Falkner_' too; the two were completely juxtaposed, the loss of a love versus the acquirement of… something, but Falkner's kiss felt no less disastrous for it. There had been disbelief and pain and confusion after Eusine walked out, and when Morty had stood there, with Falkner's mouth pressed against his own and hands brushing tentatively over his skin…

It was the end of the world, all over again.

_I really need to get a grip, _Morty thought, detaching the Poké Balls from his belt and releasing the Pokémon inside. Haunter and Gengar didn't spare him a second glance before floating off into the house. Maybe they knew - maybe they could sense what he'd done.

You knew you were in trouble when your own Pokémon were ashamed of you. Particularly considering the tricks the Ghosts typically got up to; they weren't exactly known for taking the moral high ground.

Coffee. That sounded like a good idea; caffeine, more specifically. Morty set the kettle to boil, rummaging around in the cupboards for-

"Dammit." Fresh out; the jar was empty. Outside, the heavens finally opened, and the sound of heavy raindrops pattering against the window did nothing to alleviate the feeling that karma was very much in action, (if not a little slow, considering he'd made it inside in time to avoid a soaking from the sudden downpour).

Two minutes later, with a steaming mug of hot water clutched between his hands for the comfort of the warmth, Morty settled down at the kitchen table to brood. There hadn't really been time for rational thought back in Goldenrod, only for a messy cover-up that wasn't fair to anyone involved.

_Oh? You kissed me, Falkner? You feel _that way _about me, Falkner? Oh well. I kissed you back? Still doesn't matter. Doesn't mean anything. What, did you think…? Did you really…?_

"Oh God…" Morty said aloud before he could stop himself, his own voice interrupting his thoughts. He let go of the mug to bury frustrated hands into his own hair, tugging a little. It all looked bad - so very, very bad. But wasn't that the reality of it, really? What could Morty say to defend himself?

He'd kissed Falkner back. Only for a brief moment, but it had happened and - dammit - Morty had _enjoyed _it. Despite everything, it had felt good having someone that close, having that kind of intimacy again. He'd lost himself for a moment; giving in to something he hadn't even realised he wanted.

But, _Falkner_? Small, slight Falkner? With his blue hair half-obscuring his face and oddly traditional attire, he couldn't really be further from Morty's usual type. And sure, he had turned out to be a nice guy - calm, patient and a good listener, if still a little quiet - but Eusine had been a huge personality. Morty was used to loud. He was used to theatrical. He was used to funny and impulsive (and sometimes even insensitive, despite all of Eusine's better traits), but Falkner… was reserved. Shy.

Attractive, in his own way, but Morty had never considered him like that. At least, he didn't _think _he had. They were just friends, weren't they?

Morty wasn't sure if they even had that, anymore. Not after the way Morty had behaved. Surely Falkner must be kicking himself, and with Morty just smoothing over it like he had, carrying on as if nothing had happened… Falkner had to feel terrible. Morty had effectively said, 'I understand exactly what you meant, but I'm not going to deal with it', and left Falkner to make sense of things all on his own.

_There hadn't been time,_ argued a voice inside his head, in his own defence. _Whitney was outside and it all happened so suddenly and there wasn't _time _to deal…_

His hands drifted back to the mug, letting the warmth permeate through him. He _knew _he had to sort things, but what would he say? How could he find the words get his point across?

Morty watched the steam rising off the surface of the water, and wondered exactly what his point was anyway.

An apology would be a good start. An 'I'm sorry' for being such a jerk and not talking things through. (_Remind you of anyone? _he thought to himself, and imagined Eusine standing in the entranceway again). Falkner deserved that much, Morty was certain, but beyond that…

He didn't know.

Morty flinched, and before he could still the movement of his hands, spilled hot water down the sides of the mug and over his own fingers. He hissed, drawing them back and fisting them in his own lap. _Of course _he would turn Falkner down. Gently, of course, so as not to damage his confidence any further, (although, if that kiss was anything to go by, the Violet Leader was something of a dark horse). There would be another 'I'm sorry' and a 'can we still be friends?' and in the end, it would all be alright. As if it had never happened.

And he would go back to worrying about Eusine again.

His head hit the table with a muted 'thud' as Morty realised that, everything considered, he didn't really know _what _it was that he wanted. Would it really be so bad, furthering his relationship with Falkner? Taking things slowly, keeping it fairly casual - dating, he thought they called it, but it had been so long since he and Eusine had first got together, he was having trouble remembering how the process worked…

Eusine. The complication.

Maybe if he were less unhappy, and less _in love _with someone who was never coming back, things might be simpler. In another world, another Falkner had kissed another Morty. Both had liked it, and everything was okay.

Wherever they were, Morty couldn't help but envy them.


	8. Seven

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Seven

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: Quicker, longer update than usual - I have a fairly good feeling about this chapter, (which is saying a lot for me, I guess!) It was fun to write, but it made my hands shake. XD I really hope you guys enjoy. :)

* * *

The first time, Morty had just brushed it off as a mistake.

The second time was a little suspicious.

The third time, he was convinced he had worked out exactly who it was. After being treated to a third helping of tense silence, Morty cut off the call and squinted at the tiny screen. Withheld number. Probably someone who didn't appreciate calls and didn't use their phone very often.

Everything considered, he should have guessed Falkner would try and contact him. And it was just like him to do this - probably waiting around for hours, wringing his hands and wondering when would be the best time to call, only for his words to fail him when he finally plucked up the courage.

The fourth time, Morty let it ring. He sat in silence, phone in hand, waiting for the buzzing to stop. Gengar watched him from across the room, looking vaguely amused; usually, when the noise-making stick beeped like that, its master would lift it to his ear, and a voice would come out from inside.

No voices today, then. Its interest was lost, and it floated away through the ceiling. Morty watched the Pokémon go, and finally the ringing stopped.

_Maybe give it five minutes… _he thought to himself, getting up to go and boil the kettle. He'd replenished his supply of coffee the morning after he had made it home from Goldenrod, but after a whole week still hadn't touched it. Other than running the gym and going through his usual meditation routine, he had found he wanted to do little else but sleep; a caffeine boost wasn't exactly a smart way to achieve that.

Maybe he had just felt particularly run-down, but he couldn't help but recognise the part of him that needed space. It was logical, when he thought about it; he was less likely to have to deal with Falkner or Whitney or, God forbid, _Eusine _if he was unconscious.

As it was, he shouldn't have worried. Whitney hadn't been in touch save a quick text-message, Eusine was still very much an absent figure, and Falkner… well. Clearly Falkner was suffering through the same anxiety that Morty was, because he had maintained his silence - at least, up until just yesterday.

It was funny; Morty was just considering calling Falkner to try and work things out, fed up of sitting alone worrying over it, when the phone rang. There had been a quiet shuffling noise down the line, the sound of breathing, and then nothing. Only the click of the line as it disconnected. It must have been the sound of Morty's voice that had startled him. And if that was the case, Morty reasoned, then it might be easier for Falkner just to leave a message.

_At least that way, he can have his say uninterrupted, _thought Morty, absently spooning coffee granules into a mug. He looked first at the clock on the wall, and then over to where the phone sat - quiet and innocent and completely unaware of its importance - where he'd left it on the kitchen table. It felt like a lifetime since he had put it there; time was playing its usual trick of dragging by when it wasn't wanted.

Kettle abandoned, Morty hurried the few paces to the table and scooped up the phone. He pressed a button for voicemail, and held it to his ear.

_Come on, Falkner… come on…_

A click.

"_You have - one - new message," _the automated voice informed him, _"and - no - saved messages. Press 'one' to-"_

Morty dialled the 'one' key on the telephone, his pulse loud to his own ears. He wasn't sure whether it was excitement or anxiety, or what he even _wanted _to hear, but it was _Falkner_. Falkner who'd kissed him. Falkner who'd managed to turn everything on its head - _again _- and confused Morty to no end. They were both just a mess of conflicted emotions, but somehow it didn't make it wrong. Morty didn't know exactly what he wanted beyond the voicemail message, _(a confession? An invitation?)_, but it was a good start-

"_Hi, Morty," _came the recorded voice from down the line, and Morty was sure his blood iced over. _"It's Eusine."_

The sound assaulted his ears, filling his head, and the chill of realisation was not unlike falling into freezing water. Morty was paralysed with it, phone still glued to his ear, disbelief rendering him motionless as he heard Eusine's voice - tentative and uncertain - for the first time since the break-up. The first contact since he left.

Morty squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his head of the white noise that seemed to have wrapped itself around his eardrums, and did his best to school his fluttering nerves into check. His heartbeat sounded like less of a drum and more of an _entire band _as Morty finally steeled himself and listened-

"_-brought me back to Pewter. I've been wanting to call for days now, but there was the sighting up the mountain, and then the accident…" _Eusine breathed a long sigh. _"I'm so sorry. Obviously it's a little difficult for me right now - they've had to wheel me out to use the payphone, seeing as I'm all done up in plaster - but I'll be in touch soon to talk properly. You're going to think this is really dumb, but… well, it's weird; I've don't think I've ever felt quite so nervous. You probably thought I was just some stupid kid playing a game, but I've tried to call you loads already. The nurse was getting impatient; she's gone outside for a cigarette. You should have seen the look on her face - even she thinks I'm an idiot."_

Morty's stomach flipped and his chest hitched with a sharp intake of breath - the thought of being so close to talking to Eusine was somehow a lot more daunting than taking a call from Falkner. It felt… weirdly intrusive. They had been _right there_, brought together by the telephone connection, and Morty hadn't even realised-

"_-don't blame you if you don't want to speak to me. I thought maybe a message would be better - easier for you to get over the shock. I know I'm in the wrong and I wanted to give you chance to calm down; you've every right to be angry with me, Morty, but I want us to be able to talk about this. Because there's a lot to talk about. I…" _There was a long pause, as if Eusine's words had somehow become stuck. Difficult to say, probably. _"…I won't be coming home, Morty. Not yet. Not for a long while - I… I just don't know. I don't think we can be together as we are."_

And there it was. The killing blow.

"Really, now?" Morty murmured softly, as Eusine could actually hear him. "I never realised." It was funny - if Eusine really was there on the end of the line, Morty would probably have stronger words for him. Much stronger words. Anger bubbled up inside; rage like he'd never quite experienced before. All the misery and loneliness and worry Eusine had put him through had somehow built up and turned into something else entirely.

In the message, Eusine cleared his throat. _"I really think I need a chance to try to explain - to _properly _explain. You deserve it Morty, and I'm so sorry. Words can't do it justice; I feel terrible. I'll try to call again within the next few-"_

Eusine never finished, as far as Morty was concerned. Morty unceremoniously cut the call, and the voice died.

He looked down at his hand, where the phone was gripped tightly in his white-knuckled fist. Like a brick about to be put through a window. Like something set to explode. The urge to throw it - to scream and hurl it across the room - was almost overpowering, like Eusine had touched on something deep and instinctual inside him. Like he had drawn a whole new persona to the surface.

It was someone Morty didn't recognise, and someone he didn't like.

"What are you _doing_?" Morty asked aloud. There was no answer for him in the empty room. He tried to convince himself that he was addressing Eusine, but a part of him knew better. He felt his anger ebb, receding like the vanishing tide - almost as suddenly as it had surfaced.

The hand shook, and lowered. Morty set the phone on the table, and ran exhausted fingers back through his hair, breathing out a deep, steadying breath. Since when had Eusine been able to do this to him?

Since when had _anyone _been able to do this to him?

No matter how he looked at it, no matter how he tried to explain everything away, he couldn't help the sinking feeling that he was losing himself.

* * *

He was calm. Calm, collected and clear-headed - his inner balance fully restored. Morty felt good. Meditation tended to have that effect on him, as well as being beneficial for his psychic gift; after all, there was nothing like worry or stress to throw him off course.

It had been three days since Eusine's call, which made it about a week and a half since Falkner's kiss. There was an undeniable part of Morty that had to wonder when his life had become this way; his sense of time defined by the people who toyed with him as they did, leaving him bewildered and disorientated in their wake. But then, he didn't like to think on that too much. It was obviously a control issue, and in his experience, the best way to take back the reins when matters got out of hand was to sit in silence and clear his mind.

Eusine might have been a creature of chaos - a veritable natural disaster that had left a trail of destruction through just about everything that Morty had fought to establish between them - but Morty was different. Morty was serenity. He was peace. He wouldn't so much as vent his frustration as let it fade quietly away with the scent of the incense, because he _knew how to let go._

The phone had rung twice already in that evening; albeit reduced to a distant humming noise in his deep meditative state. He had heard it perfectly well, felt the ripple in his consciousness that meant he was about to be interrupted, but had forced it back; settling deliberately further into his contemplation.

His nerves were still raw; the mere _thought _of Eusine had a sudden heat prickling beneath his skin, and not in the way it used to. There was nothing positive about it; between the parts where he loved Eusine - where he wanted to forgive him and have him come home - lurked the same rage from earlier, simmering white-hot and ominous in the background.

Just waiting for an encore.

Morty sat on the floor, still folded into his sitting position from his meditation, and clutched his head with agitated hands. It wasn't _fair. _He was sure he'd never felt quite so out of it - like he was just a bystander. Like he was just listening in on the vibrations of someone _else's _aura.

The phone rang again; the audience were chanting for their repeat performance. He imagined Eusine, on crutches or perhaps sitting in his wheelchair, reaching up to dial the number. Ready to complain about how he'd taken a fall chasing the Pokémon he'd abandoned their relationship for. Ready to tell him that his ambitions for Suicune eclipsed his love for Morty.

Ringing. Ringing, ringing, ringing.

Haunter and Gengar were watching him from the doorway, their judging eyes following him as he launched to his feet and was across the room in a heartbeat-

A click.

"_Go away!" _Morty snarled into the receiver.

A pause.

"I- I'm sorry-" Falkner stammered, and hung up the phone.

* * *

Falkner knew precisely what it felt like - not getting what he wanted. He had long since become accustomed to the concepts of 'second best', 'runner-up' and 'compromise'; even as a child, he had never really been particularly exceptional. It made sense that, in turn, exceptional things never happened to him.

Even Violet Gym, his supposed golden achievement, had turned out to be something of a disappointment. That proud moment (when Falkner's father had handed him the keys, along with a firm handshake and a strained smile) had been deceptive. He wasn't the Bird Master his father had implied him to be. He was the Leader of a low-level gym, running it for the man who was off doing the _real _training. He was just keeping the place alive in the true Bird Master's absence.

Of course, Falkner hadn't realised it right away. He had stared around the gym, with its cold, empty walls and high ceiling, and felt like he was finally moving up in the world. He had been so sure that Violet Gym was his stepladder to new heights.

Then his father had left.

Falkner had hung onto his dream. He had trained vigorously every day, aside from taking it easy on the never-ending flow of rookie Trainers who passed through the doors, and had returned home every night just as sweaty and exhausted as his Pokémon, only to start the whole process again the next day. He had wanted to prove his worth. He was so determined, back then.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, looking back. Like he had been a whole different person. It was a different boy who had first stood at the back of his gym, his head held high and with a sense of triumph in the air. That kid had misjudged his victory, young and naïve as he was, and Falkner pitied him. Not so long ago, he had had all the time in the world to pity him; as idiotic as he had been for thinking that good things happened to pathetically lonely, socially-inept introverts.

And now? _C'est la vie. _He'd matured and, more importantly, become wise to the way things really were. The universe seemed to have a habit of chewing him up and then spitting him back out; Sod's Law was a permanent fixture and there was nothing he could do about it, so _why bother? _Why put himself through it when it would never affect the outcome…?

He had thought he had cracked the code, solved the mystery like the cartoons on the television, when he had been wrapped around Ecruteak's Gym Leader in the toilet of that little Goldenrod bar - when there had been hands touching his face and lips pressed against his own…

Morty had been life's olive branch, Falkner was certain. As if the universe had turned around and said, _"Sorry things have been a bit shit lately. Problem back at the office - must've got your file mixed with someone else's, can you believe! You just can't get the staff these days. But it's alright 'cause look here…" _And then there he was. Like the sun rising over the bleak line of the horizon; something real and palpable and undeniably _good. _No tricks. No hidden catches. Just Morty.

Falkner had had his first taste of happiness in a very long time, and now he was left to wonder if the disaster was his fault, or just the work of whatever higher power had it in for him. Somehow, it was easier to think the latter; living with the thought that he had driven Morty away (and managed to hurt him so badly in the process) was unbearable. Falkner couldn't cope with that responsibility; he hated himself enough as it was, without adding guilt on top of it all.

He was heading into dangerous territory, and it was time to let it go.

Falkner would go back to the way things were before; running the gym and _not _bothering Morty. He would be fine. He'd concentrate on what he _did _have instead of what he didn't. He could look back on the time he spent with Morty, (and Whitney too; he had to admit she wasn't as scary as he had first thought), and just be thankful for it for what it was - experience. A bird couldn't fly until it had tested the breeze. If good fortune ever looked his way again, Falkner would know what _not _to do.

There would be no kissing in public toilets, for a start.

And he would put Morty's furious rebuke to the back of his mind; it only sullied the memory. Falkner had never really been one to focus on the positives in life, but the mere thought of Morty's voice over the phone - strained with barely-controlled anger - was enough to have him cringing all over again. Sleeping on it had been no help, particularly not when he had spent most of the night restlessly fidgeting, the scene stuck on a perpetual loop inside his head.

'Go away', Morty had said, and Falkner had gone.

Specifically, to Violet Gym; there was work to be done. Newcomers to battle. Gym Trainers to advise. Paperwork to sort and finances to balance. It might have been the very picture of dull and mundane, but it was what he did. He was good at it. Venturing into unfamiliar waters may have given him a thrill, but standing in the doorway and knowing that the gym was _his…_

Okay. Maybe there was no comparison, but he still had his pride. Sort of. It was his duty to look after the gym, and if that was going to be his distraction, then he welcomed it.

Crossing the room to the platform, riding it up to the highest reaches of the building, treading the narrow walkway to his Leader's post… this was what Falkner was made for. What he was used to. Maybe his father had been right to leave him behind, after all.

And Morty…? He was just a small blip. A minor alteration in the overall plan, and one that could be easily written out, if Falkner tried hard enough.

That morning, he'd focused fiercely on keeping his mind blank, and it hadn't taken long before his day had narrowed down to his string of opponents; one Trainer after the other making their way hesitantly along the high pathway, the usual naïve determination etched into their faces. Kids, really. He'd let the usual eighty percent through, handed out the badges to the victors and given half-hearted commiserations to those who hadn't quite made it. Routine.

For some reason, it felt even more grating than usual. He could feel his irritation level steadily notching higher as the hours trickled by, agonisingly slow in their pace. It seemed time was in no hurry; maybe nothing _had _changed, after all.

"Falkner…?" One of the Gym Trainers. Typically, they didn't speak to him unless there was a problem - early on, they had judged his prickly demeanour to be wearing. Falkner was withdrawn at best, and snappish and easily irked at worst. He knew very well they were just as eager as he was for his father to return; namely, they could get rid of the moody, unfriendly son and get their former Leader back.

To be fair, he had often found himself glad to see the back of _them _after a day at work. "What?" he asked, a little more sharply than he had intended.

The boy floundered for a moment, jumping in surprise as the last Trainer of the day breezed past him to stand on the challengers' mark. "Um, there's… well, uh, we need to make the usual trip to the Pokémon Centre, get the team patched up for the morning." His forehead creased, as if he were suffering from a sudden headache. "And, there was another thing… It's a bit hard to explain, er-"

"Come on then, spit it out," Falkner demanded, exasperated. He very rarely had much patience with them. They weren't his friends, to the point that they were forever giving him disapproving glances and talking about him behind his back; he wasn't in the mood for stupid games when they could be easily avoided. "It's been a long day and I'm sure we all want to get home-"

The challenger cleared his throat. "So I just stand here then?" he asked. "It's been a while since I've been here…"

"Yes, yes…" Falkner waved him off impatiently, before turning to his fellow Bird Trainer again. "Of course you can go. We'll make this the last battle. Just don't run off - make sure you come back. I don't intend to lock up on my own again just because you lot want to have an early finish."

"Er, yes - okay. It's just…" the Gym Trainer cast a nervous look at the newcomer challenger. Again - highly irregular behaviour, Falkner noted with a frown. The Trainer shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Well, wouldn't it be best if we were out of the way if this is an official… visit?" he continued, clearly perturbed by the situation. Either that, or just fishing for a way to get home early.

Falkner shook his head, resisting the urge to slap a hand to his forehead. "Not one of your better excuses, I have to ad- admi- _M-Morty?"_

No one had ever been able to perfect the 'rabbit in the headlights' look quite like Falkner, and the horror on his face upon seeing said Leader in _his gym _took the expression to new levels. His head spun as if the long-endured heights were suddenly getting to him, and the Gym Trainer's suspicion suddenly made sense. No one _ever _came to Violet Gym for a social call.

Correction - no one ever came to see _Falkner_ for a social call. He just wasn't a social kind of guy; that was a widely-recognised fact.

Precisely _how _Falkner had managed not to notice him was anyone's guess; he had just been so wrapped up in ignoring the _thought _of Morty that he had managed to overlook Morty himself. And yet,there he was. As if yesterday had never happened - as if the _Goldenrod incident _had never happened. Morty had never looked better; fresh-faced and, as usual, immaculately dressed. Even more surprisingly, completely unruffled by the drop between them and the ground; just as he had been in Falkner's dream on the way back from Blackthorn. Not even so much as a tremble. He was looking curiously around the gym, Poké Ball in hand, and-

"Does this mean I don't get to try for the Zephyr Badge?" he asked, all innocence and virtue to any onlooker, but Falkner was sure he caught a hint of playful mischief in his eyes.

The solution was to abruptly fix his own gaze to the opposite wall, and say tightly, "Right, er - well. Yes, I suppose you had better go. I'll finish up here and lock up." The Gym Trainer jumped when he realised he was being addressed, and all but fled; grabbing his partner (who had been hovering in the background, only vaguely interested) and riding the lift down to ground-level. They were obviously relieved to be going - Falkner could hear the distant buzz of their hurried muttering as the two of them left, closing the heavy doors behind them.

Falkner wasn't sure what it was that he felt, but if the two of them had seen _hope _in his face then he would never live it down. Especially if Morty kept on looking at him like _that…_

"What?" he asked, defensive.

Morty gave him a lopsided grin. "Nothing." He clipped the Poké Ball to his belt (Falkner breathed out a sigh, trying hard not to think about the Ghost Pokémon inside it), and scratched idly at the back of his neck, still looking around him as if surveying the place for the property market. "Can you believe they refused to battle me? Is that even allowed?"

"Morty…" Falkner's voice sounded like a warning, but he wasn't even sure what he was going to follow it up with. When Morty's expression sobered suddenly and he gave Falkner a small smile and an encouraging nod, Falkner settled on the truth. "You make it very difficult to forget about you when you turn up at my workplace."

If his eyes weren't deceiving him, Morty actually flinched a little. "You're trying to forget about me?" he asked, and Falkner had to suppress a wince at the hurt lingering in his voice.

"I… I think it would probably be best," Falkner tried, pointedly ignoring the part of him that wanted to deny it and _beg _Morty to let them still be friends. Or… more than that. Why couldn't Falkner just let it go…?

The corners of Morty's mouth quirked downwards ever-so-slightly; he looked almost disappointed, but also as though he had been thoroughly expecting this revelation. "Oh. Right, well…" He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. The self-assured image was shattered. "I came to explain," he finished, and all of a sudden Falkner had the fluttering in his chest to contend with, too.

_Be strong, _Falkner thought to himself, knotting his fretful hands in his sleeves to stop him twisting his fingers. _Be strong and do what's best-_

"Really?" his mouth asked, before his brain could give its input. And there it was - an obvious tone to his voice that couldn't have been anything else but _hopeful. _Everything he was trying so hard not to be; it sounded weak and needy and _really, Morty? You really came back for me?_

He couldn't help but feel like he was losing the battle.

"I'm going to tell you the truth, as useless and pathetic as it'll sound," Morty began tentatively, looking even more ill at ease when Falkner folded his arms in front of his chest to stop the trembling of his hands.

_That's good. Look strong. Like you believe in what you said, _Falkner encouraged himself mentally, ready and waiting for Morty's explanation. Eager, almost, for every word-

"Eusine," Morty said, and Falkner felt his stomach do a little flip. When he came back to himself, Morty was giving a bitter laugh and shaking his head. "I know, I know. I have to stop hiding behind him - using him as an excuse when I mess up. But… he's been trying to get in contact with me again over these last few days. As in, repeatedly. And he's had very little to say that's even remotely constructive - I don't think even _he _knows why he behaved the way he did."

Falkner's mouth felt dry. "He… he's coming back?"

"Not any time soon." Morty gave a helpless shrug. "He called me from hospital; apparently, he fell down a mountainside near to Pewter and managed to break something. I… I was worried for him, Falkner, but…" Morty paused, his expression collapsing into something caught between misery and guilt. "I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't cope with hearing him again, as if everything will be okay." He looked up at Falkner's face, pinning him with desperate eyes that said, 'please, _please _understand'.

Falkner felt his resolve crumble; he felt weirdly deflated, like his worry had been for nothing. Like they were back to square one. "…I get it. You were angry and you didn't want to speak to anyone - I shouldn't have called-"

"But that's my point," Morty insisted. "You _should._ You were _right _to call. And yes, I was angry. I can't really believe it myself - I let go of all that negativity a lifetime ago - but it all built up, all the stress and anxiety, and… I lost it. Last night… I thought I was talking to _him _again."

Silence. Falkner knew his mouth was hanging slightly agape, but didn't bother closing it. He earnestly tried to find the right words, but somehow they all stuck in his throat, choking him. Eventually-

"You… weren't talking to me?"

"I didn't think I was," Morty affirmed, and the look on his face was most definitely guilt. There was no mistaking it. "I know how stupid it sounds, but you _have _to believe me - I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea; I thought you were Eusine again. He rang me twice in succession before your call and I just jumped to conclusions." He paused, and then added, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"Why didn't you call back…?" Falkner asked, his voice hoarse. He couldn't quite believe this was happening to him.

"I wanted to see you in person. And… I had a few things to mull over. Quite a few things, actually," Morty admitted. "It was like I became _someone else, _Falkner - like Eusine had driven me into becoming something I'm not. I haven't lost control like that in a very long time; that's not the person I want to be." Falkner forced himself to meet Morty's eyes, and there was honesty there. "When I was with you, it was like everything was back to normal. Well, not _everything, _but… well, I felt like myself again. I don't want to lose you, Falkner. If I can't let go of Eusine, I'll just end pushing everyone away - it'll be Whit next, I swear it, and I just can't _deal _with that happening."

"…You still want to see me?" Falkner asked cautiously, trying to make sure he hadn't got his wires crossed. If he woke up and this was all a dream he was sure he would lose it completely.

"Of course I do," Morty said, his voice catching on a weak laugh. "Falkner, I was waiting for your call. Eusine left a message, and I thought it was _you _- I was _waiting _for you. I didn't have the right words to say myself, but I was hoping that you did. After… after the kiss and-"

"Please," Falkner interjected, his face heating up at the thought, "let's not talk about that - I messed up, I know…"

"But what if it's okay? What if I want to talk about it?" Morty persisted, his eyes strangely bright. "Falkner, we need to discuss this. Make sure we're on the same page. Did you… did you really mean it?"

Falkner shook his head, confused. "Did I mean what?"

"The kiss. Did you want to kiss me?"

_Yes._

"Er, I…"

"Falkner?"

_Yes. Yes I did want to kiss you._

"The thing about that, Morty, is that… well-"

"You can trust me with this."

_I really wanted to. More than anything._

"No," Falkner bit out, more to himself than to Morty. He pressed his mouth into a thin, stubborn line. "No, I don't think I can. I… I'm tired of always been the guy who gets it wrong. Who messes everything up, who - who takes something _good _and ruins it. I'm doing my best to try and forget, and you come here…" He gestured quickly to the gym as the words just kept coming. "Here to my… to _my _gym, looking all clean and perfect and - _dammit _- reasonable, and I can't handle that. You… you do weird things to me, Morty," he finished, drawing in a long breath, and then added, "Things I don't understand. And I know it's not mutual, so maybe you should do the right thing and _leave."_

A long silence stretched between the two. Morty looked pensive, thoughtful.

"…Let me take you out."

Falkner jerked reflexively. "What?"

"Let me take you out," Morty repeated softly, so quiet Falkner _still _wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. "I get it, I do. You don't want to leave yourself vulnerable again - that's completely understandable. I… I _like _you, Falkner. That's all it is; nothing sinister. Come out with me this weekend."

This must have been what an out-of-body experience felt like. Falkner was sure he had somehow become detached from reality was watching the scene unfold from the outside. "You - you mean…" He cleared his throat, hating how he stumbled over his words. "Like a…"

"Date?" Morty supplied oh-so-helpfully, and Falkner felt his blush darken. "Would you like it to be?"

"I… yes! I mean, maybe, if… uh…"

"We can take it slowly," Morty said, and Falkner was thankful for the interruption. "I just got out of a car-crash of a relationship - I'm not looking for anything serious."

"No - no. That's fine. Whatever you want, Morty," Falkner found himself agreeing. Happiness and disbelief were swelling in his chest, and it was difficult to breathe; his mind reeled a little, trying to make sense of it all.

Morty bit his lower lip between his teeth, and Falkner was worried he'd said something wrong. At least, until the distance closed between them and Morty was suddenly a _lot _closer than before, and asking, "But what about you? What do _you _want, Falkner?"

That was easy. "You," Falkner said simply, the relief of honesty feeling like a great weight had been lifted from him. "I…"

_I love you, Morty-_

"I like you too," he finished, and Morty looked pleased - Falkner was sure his smile literally lit up the room, or maybe that was just the low orb of the sun behind the windows. Either way, the cliché seemed to fit.

He wanted to reach out for him, but stilled his hands. _Slow, _he thought. _Slow._

"I'll be in touch," Morty said, "soon." He looked almost shy, like a teenager asked out to the school dance, and there was a stupidly happy grin spread across his features. "See you, Falkner."

Falkner nodded. "Soon," he said, watching Morty walk away. He was reminded again of his dream in the taxi - of Morty's comforting, outstretched hand and the invitation to jump. He had never dared to imagine that there would be even a hint of realism to it.

They were on the brink of something incredible, he was sure of it. Not anticipating events _exactly _as they would later play out, but the feeling was there all the same. Like there was something life-changing waiting for him, just over the horizon.

Like he'd taken a chance and jumped.


	9. Eight

Minor Alterations  
Chapter Eight

By: Bell  
Fandom: Pokémon  
Pairings: Honorshipping (MortyxFalkner).  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Slash relationships, non-explicit sexual content, coarse language, mpreg.

Summary: Two Gym Leaders come to crossroads in their lives, and are unwittingly forced onto the same path.

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them for the purposes of this FanFiction._

Author's Note: In which the boys get their date! :D I've been working hard to get this chapter out before the start of NaNoWriMo - didn't QUITE make it on schedule, but you guys will be happy to know that this fic will make up some of my word count this year! I'm very excited. :) Happy writing, everyone!

As an added note, a friend of mine had the scenario with the arm happen to her years ago, after taking a fall from a tree. It was nasty, but provided me with inspiration here! D:

* * *

It wasn't a solution, Morty knew all too well, but standing in front of the mirror felt like progress. Like pinning his scarf in place and trying (and failing) to smooth down the unruly tufts of his hair was a step in the right direction.

The problem wasn't going away. It would be foolish to think it would disappear if he closed his eyes for long enough; like wallpapering over mould, or resolutely ignoring cracks in the ceiling and telling concerned neighbours that _it'll be alright - just cosmetic damage. Trivial._

All well and good, until the damp starts to seep through, or one day you go to take a bath and wind up in the room directly below. Morty had always been one to pay attention to warning signs (with the debatable exception of his steadily deteriorating relationship with Eusine prior to the walk-out), but now he was sure he understood exactly _why _it was easier just to carry on as if it wasn't happening, even with the threat of falling through the ceiling duly noted.

As he stood there, looking absently into the eyes of his own reflection, the example of Whitney seemed to fit the circumstances pretty well; to be precise, the summer she'd tripped over construction materials during a tour of her nearly-refurbished gym back in Goldenrod. Not all that long ago, but still a couple of years, and yet somehow it felt like yesterday. The incident wasn't exactly forgettable.

It wasn't everyday that a person managed to break their own arm without realising it. At the time, Whitney had complained about the pain but had otherwise insisted she was perfectly alright - she had vehemently turned down the offer of medical attention in favour of continuing on to see her new Leader's post.

By the time she did think it best to get it checked out, it had healed back wrong and the doctors had been forced to break it all over again in order to set it correctly. Exactly _how _she had managed to go about her business in the days leading up to the hospital visit was completely beyond Morty; the girl had even managed to get a few decent nights' sleep with her broken limb. Mad, now he thought back to it, but so typically _Whitney _that he couldn't help smiling just a little.

If Whitney's arm was Morty's relationship with Eusine, and the break in the joint was comparable with the break in Morty's heart, then it was obvious. The sensible thing for Whitney to have done was to accept that she needed to be checked out by a doctor. The sensible choice for _Morty _was to talk to Eusine. To sit down like the adults they were and talk things out; that way, he could properly move on.

But this… Just leaving it and covering it up by taking Falkner out was as much use as Whitney putting a sticking plaster over the damage; it was all well and good to hide the ugly truth behind bright colours and cartoons, but it would still hurt the next morning. And the next. And the one after that.

Eusine would still be there. Unless, of course, he decided to go and throw himself off another mountain, but the thought was enough to fill Morty with such consuming horror that he put it firmly out of mind.

…He'd sort it. He would - he'd speak to Eusine the next time the other man had the time to get in touch, and they'd arrange an opportunity to talk properly. He'd let Eusine come to _him, _but in the meantime just be prepared for when the inevitable happened and they had to string a civil conversation together.

Making the decision was comparatively simple, but actually figuring out what to say would be the difficult part. Maybe working out exactly where the situation had left them; after all, dwelling on the past wouldn't change anything. Looking back, it was easier to see the problem - the long absences that had rotted away the very foundations of their connection - and Morty knew in his heart that there was no salvaging it. Not now. He had long since made up his mind to let it all go, and was determined to tell Eusine exactly that.

Voicing it would prove he was serious and, if everything went as he hoped it would, help to soothe the heartbreak. There was no future for him and Eusine, and there was a big part of Morty that needed to _hear _it. He needed to break out of the loop he had locked himself into - unable to live with Eusine, but unable to live without him, either. It wasn't healthy.

Morty would move on, with Whitney and Falkner to support him. He could go back to being the stable, emotionally-secure one; people came to _him _with their problems, not the other way around. Whitney had been amazingly supportive - as if she had somehow matured when he wasn't looking - and Falkner…

There was no denying that Morty liked him. He'd been there for Morty when he needed him most, and while the Ecruteak Leader wasn't certain how he would have coped without Falkner to lean on, the thought also served to worsen the guilt.

Romance could be complicated, but most of the time it all boiled down to something very simple; _I like you, and I want to spend my time with you._ And yet, gut instinct told Morty that his offer to take Falkner out for the night was based on more than just innocent attraction.

Healing. A way to stop him bleeding out his hurt over Eusine and harming himself further in the process. Falkner was the cheerfully-coloured plaster over the break, and the thought made Morty feel faintly ill. As if he was just using Falkner as a means of coming back from his loss…

Morty steeled himself, taking one last look at his reflection before reaching for his keys. He would _never _do that to someone - he didn't have the capacity for it. He wasn't manipulative or mean, and he would never _use _Falkner just to forget that Eusine was ever part of his life.

_I'll forget all about it, _he told himself, going over to the window to watch out for his taxi. He twirled the keys nervously around his fingers. _I'll just forget about the whole Eusine thing and enjoy myself. Enjoy spending time with Falkner. _It all sounded so easy - he'd keep the messy situation out of mind, and just be himself. He was going out for an evening of harmless fun with a casual date; there was no need to over-complicate things by thinking on it too much.

In a way, it would perhaps be refreshing. He wouldn't have to take himself too seriously, and they could just relax and have a good time. With Falkner there would be no stress and no worry; perfectly straightforward in comparison to the labyrinth of conflicted emotion surrounding his relationship with Eusine.

_A broken limb, _he kept reminding himself, _a broken limb that has to be fixed _properly_, or not at all._

The taxi finally pulled up outside his house and Morty left through the front door, keys jingling as he locked it behind him. As he walked down the path to the waiting vehicle, he was blissfully unaware that, for all his worry over taking advantage, 'simple', 'uncomplicated' Falkner would go on to result in fractures of his own, further down the line.

Had Morty been able to see the future, maybe things would have been different. However, as they were, he was getting into a taxi that would take him into a new maze; yet another puzzle to figure out, or drive himself mad over.

"Violet City, please," he said to the man behind the steering wheel, and the engine rumbled to life.

* * *

Butterflies. Falkner had always rejected the analogy, but then again, he wasn't sure he had ever been quite this worked up - he was sure he could feel a fluttering in his gut, his insides twisting with anticipation and worry.

He'd been ready to go for a good half an hour now; sat perched on the edge of the sofa, listening intently for the knock at the door. He had been all set to go much too early, he knew - somehow, he hadn't been able to help himself. It was pretty much all he had thought about for the past couple of days; going out with Morty. A real _date, _Morty had said.

Did this make Morty his boyfriend…? Falkner wasn't sure. They were still testing the waters, and that was fine with him; he would give Morty as much time as he wanted. As much space as he wanted. Whatever it took to keep him comfortable-

The doorbell rang, and Falkner's knees gave out; he slipped from his seat and onto the floor, jarring his backside on impact. He ignored the sudden pain, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself down, nervously smoothing out invisible creases in his jacket. Falkner had never been one to linger too long over his appearance, but he hadn't _quite _been able to rein himself in when it came to picking out the best of his (admittedly limited) wardrobe; as if it would somehow lessen his chances of screwing everything up again.

Hoothoot cocked its head curiously, watching him from the top of the doorframe where it had fallen asleep earlier that evening. _"Hooo…" _it said, and Falkner raised an eyebrow.

"How do I look?" he asked, holding his arms out and scanning a critical eye down the length of his own body.

The Pokémon closed its eyes and settled back into its slumber; uninterested in its master's trivial insecurities.

A knock at the door this time; a cheerful rapping of knuckles against the wood. Falkner shook his head, mentally reminding himself to raise his team to be more useful in such times of crisis, and went to answer the door. His hand shook a little as he reached for the handle, reminding himself to keep calm…

_Be cool, Falkner, _he thought, trying to be firm with himself. _Be cool._

The door creaked on its hinges as it swung open, and there he was; smiling in a way that had the fluttery feeling collapsing to pool in the bottom of Falkner's stomach, his innards seemingly turning to mush as his words stuck in his throat, and-

And…

"Why do you always look so unhappy to see me, huh?" was Morty's query in the absence of a greeting, but the smile didn't falter. Falkner visibly composed himself, silently repeated his newfound mantra of '_be cool, be cool, be cool' _and locked the front door behind him.

"I'm sorry - why I can't seem to control my facial expressions is completely beyond me…" he quipped, doing his best to suppress the irritating waver in his voice. He swallowed and then, "It's great to see you, Morty," he said honestly, glad it was dark enough that the stupid blush would probably go unnoticed if it chose to resurface.

The smile widened, and Falkner knew he had said the right thing. "You too," Morty returned, sounding pleased. He stood back, one arm making a sweeping gesture towards the steps as if he were a gentleman out of a period drama. "Shall we?"

It sounded like a good idea to Falkner. He walked ahead down the flight of steps that led up to his top-floor flat, somehow acutely aware of Morty's presence behind him. It was a nice evening, if not for the usual chill; it was only worsened by the clear sky, but with that came an unobstructed view of the moon that Falkner had to admit was beautiful. He had a good feeling, and good feelings didn't exactly come along very often.

"Here we are," said Morty as they turned onto the pavement, and Falkner noticed the taxi pulled up on the kerb, its engine running while the driver waited. Falkner looked questioningly at Morty.

"We're not going on foot?" he asked, and Morty shook his head.

"It's a little too far to walk," he said. "Well, unless you want to go traipsing all the way across town in the dark. Don't worry - I'll pay."

Falkner frowned, suddenly suspicious. "Where _are _we going, exactly?" he asked, and Morty's grin turned suddenly mischievous.

"Hmmm… it's a secret."

"A secret?" Falkner didn't like the sound of that. Violet was _his _city, dammit - wasn't this supposed to be the other way around? "Sure you can't tell me? How do I know you're not gonna lead me out into the middle of nowhere and knock me unconscious?" he joked, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.

Morty laughed. "What, so I can have my wicked way with you…?" he asked, and Falkner couldn't stop the blushing as he was suddenly hit with a barrage of mental images; some select fantasies interspersed with memories of the kiss back in Goldenrod. He swallowed.

"Uh, that is… erm-"

"Come on." Morty put his hand on Falkner's arm, and Falkner felt his resistance melt. "I just wanted it to be a surprise - I promise not to try anything funny."

Falkner smiled, allowing himself to be steered towards the waiting vehicle. Again, his words seemed to flow easier the more relaxed he became - Morty just seemed to have that calming influence on him. "Why else would someone like you be with someone like me?" he teased flippantly, getting into the backseat and sliding over to make room.

Busy turning to find his seatbelt, he missed the look on Morty's face; the Ecruteak Leader seemed suddenly uncomfortable and vaguely guilty, but schooled his expression back to normal as he settled himself in next to Falkner.

"Good to go?" Morty asked, and Falkner nodded, shifting a little in his seat. Yes - there were the butterflies again. Falkner took a deep breath, trying to steady the frantic beat of his heart; Morty would be the death of him at this rate. It was just an evening out, after all. People did things like this all the time, didn't they?

"Well, will you look at that," said a familiar voice, cutting into his thoughts. He looked up to see the driver had pulled the dividing window back and was leering at him from his seat behind the steering wheel. "It's the other one! I remember you, Sleeping Beauty! I never forget a face, me!"

Realisation nearly had Falkner slapping a hand to his forehead. Of course - of all the drivers in Johto, it would _have _to be the guy from the Blackthorn trip. "Ah," he said, without enthusiasm, "small world, eh?"

The man didn't seem deterred by his tone in the slightest. "You were seriously out of it! It's a wonder we didn't have to carry you inside, you were so tired."

"Well, erm-"

"Could have been worse, mind - you could've been stuck back in Blackthorn, stood outside in the rain all night."

Morty cleared his throat. "Um, we should probably get going - we have a reservation and we probably shouldn't keep them waiting-"

"I'm never going to understand you Gym Leader-types. What do you two even _talk _about?" The driver asked, his brow creasing. "Doesn't it get boring, comparing badges? Whose gym is bigger? Which sort of Pokémon is better? Are all these meetings _really _necessary?"

"Actually, it's not official business," Morty explained hurriedly, "and we should probably get going if we're gonna make it in time-"

"Ohhhh…" If Falkner looked hard enough, he was sure he'd see a light bulb appear over the driver's head. "I see how it is. You two are… as in, you and him, you're…" He gestured between the two of them, nodding. "Right. I mean - that's good! My, uh, my sister is that… um, way. You get my meaning."

There was a quick denial waiting on the tip of Falkner's tongue, that they were most definitely _just friends _off out for the night, but he was cut off by Morty the moment he opened his mouth. "Yeah, we're going out tonight," Morty said, so easily it wasn't even an admission.

Falkner blinked.

"That's cool, that's cool…" the driver said, turning back to the wheel. "Well, I guess I've been rambling on again. The wife always tells me I talk _way _too much." He rolled his eyes. "So - off to the _secret _locationthen?" He and Morty exchanged a knowing grin in the windscreen mirror, and Falkner sunk lower in his seat.

This _definitely _wasn't helping his nerves.

* * *

"_Here we are," _the driver had said with a flourish, as they pulled up a little way out of town. _"Ha - don't look so scared!" _And then, to Morty, _"He's a jumpy one, isn't he? A regular rabbit in the headlights!" _Falkner had resisted the urge to voice a sharp retort, determined to hold onto his dignity as he got out of the taxi.

He had to admit, it was something of a relief when it pulled away, and they were finally left alone.

"Thank God for that…" Morty was saying, when Falkner pulled himself together. "I thought we'd never make it! Here - look." He pointed over Falkner's shoulder, looking distinctly pleased with himself.

They were stood outside what appeared to be a small restaurant, just outside the city limits. It was set against the backdrop of the forest, illuminated by coloured lamps not unlike those Falkner had seen in Ecruteak. He could see why Morty would want to bring him here.

A smile twitched at his lips. "Done your research, then?" he asked, and Morty shook his head.

"No, no… I told Whit I'd be taking you out for a meal, and she suggested I come here." He laughed openly when the blood drained from Falkner's face and he took on a look of pure horror. "Don't worry! I'm kidding - don't panic. She doesn't know anything for now."

Falkner exhaled a sigh. "Don't joke about that!" he admonished, shaking his head. "I still worry about what she'd do to me if she knew…" She'd probably have his head - perhaps even literally. The mental image of Whitney waving his severed head around on a stick sprung unbidden to mind, and Falkner shuddered.

"You don't know her like I do - she'd be absolutely fine with it," Morty told him, and then turned back to the building before Falkner could tell him that he still wasn't convinced in the slightest. "It's almost nostalgic, being back here." Morty's expression turned sheepish. "We - uh, Eusine and I - used to drop in every now and again. I used to travel quite a lot. Between Ho-Oh and Suicune, I was always going to and from Ecruteak. This place was quite often on our route."

Falkner felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. All of a sudden he didn't feel quite so brave anymore. "If… if this is a place for you and Eusine… You know what I mean - if it's special because the two of you used to come here…"

Morty blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Falkner…"

"I understand if you wanna try somewhere else, that's all-"

"Falkner," Morty cut him off, shaking his head rapidly. "No - no, I _wanted _to bring you here! I chose it because… well, I don't know much about Violet, but I wanted to take _you _out. And I figured you'd like it." He looked down at his feet, scuffing his shoes against the stone path. "When I said- erm, this isn't about remembering Eusine. I don't _need _any more memories of our time; it's painful enough. I just meant that there is good food and good service and it's fairly small so you don't get all anxious, or close up on me like you do…" he explained hurriedly, and Falkner found that his doubt was rapidly turning to warmth.

This was… it was nice. People rarely gave him 'nice'.

Morty was watching him carefully, as if trying to decipher his expression. "We can go elsewhere," the Ghost Trainer offered, in a small voice, "if you really want to?"

"No." Falkner shook his head and, feeling suddenly bold, slipped his arm through the crook of Morty's elbow. "No, this is perfect. It really is - thank you," he said, hoping Morty understood his appreciation. He wasn't exactly practiced when it came to letting his emotions to the surface.

To his relief, however, it seemed to work; the smile was back - happy and unguarded - and Morty was leading them up towards the entranceway before Falkner could even think to suggest that they go inside. It would be nice to get out of the cold.

Morty had been right. It was small and, importantly, completely unthreatening; nothing like 'The Dratini' back at Blackthorn, with its imposing height and cold stone and glass. There were a few people eating or ordering at the bar, but it wasn't ridiculously busy; clearly Morty had made his choice well, and the fact that he had considered Falkner's needs specifically when choosing made Falkner feel a little guilty for wanting to go elsewhere. They walked through into the restaurant's main seating area, choosing a table next to the window, where they could see the lanterns swaying from the overhang of the roof.

"The reservation was just an attempt to get him moving, then?" Falkner asked, sliding into the seat opposite Morty.

"I thought he'd never just get on with it!" Morty grinned, and then shrugged his shoulders. "In all seriousness, there's never really been any need to reserve a table before. I guess they just don't do _that _much business out here. Just relax, yeah? I want you to be able to wind down."

"You think I'm uptight, don't you?" Falkner asked, but his tone was light.

"Just a little," Morty admitted. Falkner opened his mouth to deny it, and Morty hurriedly cut him off with, "But it's okay. It means I can help you! Technically," he leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable, and his smile turned deliberately sly, "the more we do this, the better it will be for you. Any doctor would probably tell you the same. It'll be highly beneficial to your health if I get a second date…"

Falkner was pretty sure that happiness had never killed anyone before, but he could have sworn that his heart was trying to escape his body. If he had fallen asleep and was dreaming, he would be so incredibly angry when he woke up… "The first one isn't even over with yet…" he replied, for the sake of a response. His voice trembled a little as he spoke.

"Can't hurt to plan ahead…?" Morty tried, and Falkner shook his head. He couldn't stop the way his mouth stretched into that idiotic smile; he felt ridiculous, but then, there was a large part of him that _didn't care._

"You're terrible," he laughed.

"I know." Morty shrugged his shoulders. "I just want you to know that… well, I'd like us to keep on doing this. I don't want this to be a random one-off."

"It won't be," Falkner said, and then added, "I hope, anyway. That is, if you still want to… you know. Keep on seeing me - I would never _force _you…" He fiddled with the cutlery on the table, needing to occupy his shaking fingers.

There was a pause. Then, "Is it what _you _want?" Morty asked, and Falkner was convinced Morty had somehow become both blind and oblivious overnight-

"Of course it's what I want," he said, his voice quiet. "I'll admit… it's what I've wanted for a while now, Morty. I was just too shy to do anything about it, and what with everything that's happened with you and Eusine, you know, I would never… never _prey _on you when you were vulnerable… There just wasn't a good time. And even if there had been, I would've messed it up anyway."

"…I'm sorry," said Morty, after a moment's thought. Falkner jumped when Morty reached across the table to touch his hand where he was still tapping his fork against the table. The Ecruteak Leader was warm where their skin touched, and when Falkner took a furtive glance around the room, no one was looking their way. He felt himself relax, even as Morty was staring searchingly into his face.

"You're…" Falkner frowned, confused. "Morty, what?"

"I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. That you want this like I do. I thought… urgh." Morty dropped his gaze to the table between them, tracing the pattern of the tablecloth with his free hand. "I… You know what? It doesn't matter."

Falkner blinked. "It doesn't…?"

"No, no. Don't worry about it - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Morty, if something's wrong, you know you can tell me. I don't mind." He laced their fingers a little tighter together, squeezing gently.

"It's… it's nothing." Morty shot him a weak smile. He drew in a long breath, as if he were pausing to think. "I'm still sorting through the debris, shall we say. That's all - I'm just trying to get myself back to normal." He visibly perked up a bit, pulling back to reach for the menu. "Just ignore me; I'm getting there, I promise. The only thing is, every now and again, I'm reminded of how things really are right now - even when I try to forget and just have a good time. But I am moving on."

"No one expects you to get over everything right away," Falkner said. "These things take time, don't they?"

"It's no excuse to ruin the mood."

"I don't… Wait, there's a mood?" Falkner paused, and felt the familiar blush creep up under his skin as Morty winked at him.

"You're far too easy to tease," Morty told him cheerfully, before handing the menu over. "Here - we should probably go and order soon. You can choose first. Whatever you like, my treat." When he saw Falkner's expression falter, he added, "I've brought _you _out, remember? I want to do this for you - don't worry."

Falkner looked up, and there was the honesty again. A part of him wanted to be suspicious - wanted to consider the possibility of a cruel trick and tie himself up in knots of worry over it - but then, there was also a part of him that felt like the luckiest man in the world. The part that couldn't _quite _believe what was happening to him, but wasn't mistrustful of it.

And Morty clearly needed this too. This was his distraction as much as Falkner's; Morty wanted to move on from what had happened between him and Eusine, just as Falkner wanted to forget the countless long evenings he had spent alone. He had to stop _thinking _so much and just go with it.

He looked up at Morty over the menu, and felt himself smile. "Okay."

* * *

It was getting increasingly difficult to feel appropriately guilty. The longer they stayed there, just eating their meal and talking about trivial, inconsequential things (that most definitely had nothing to do with gyms or Eusine or anything that encroached even _slightly _into dangerous territory), the more Morty found himself distancing himself from his earlier dilemma.

They were having fun. Nothing complicated about that - there was simplicity in how Falkner seemed more relaxed in himself, and how the conversation flowed easily. Morty thought back to the Leaders' meeting in Goldenrod, and it seemed like a lifetime ago. Falkner had been scared of him, he was sure (and more than a little rude, because of it), and now?

Morty dutifully hid his grin around a forkful of potato, feeling suddenly, inexplicably happy.

It felt like a long time since he had felt anything less than _wounded_, and now they were sitting in the very restaurant he and Eusine had haunted on and off during their travels, and he felt _fine. _Perfectly okay with the world, and completely unapologetic about it.

Maybe he had just been paranoid. In fact, he was pretty sure of it - he wanted to be there, Falkner wanted to be there, and they were both having a good time. Falkner knew very well about Morty's history with Eusine, and it didn't change a thing; unless you counted Falkner's own worries about taking advantage of _Morty_.

_We've both been idiots, _Morty thought, taking a sip of his water. What must have been relief washed over him; as if a literal weight had been lifted from his tired shoulders. One less thing to fret about. He was finally free just to enjoy himself.

Morty drained his glass, and set his knife and fork down on his empty plate. "I needed that," he sighed, pressing a hand to his midsection. "You want another drink?"

"Could do," Falkner shrugged, eyeing his own empty glass. "If you wanted to stay for a little longer?"

There was a pause, and Morty bit his lower lip. "The reason you don't drink…" he began, slowly. "As in, alcohol. Religion?"

Falkner shook his head. "Nope."

"Health?"

"Guess again?" Falkner offered, smiling. When Morty looked stumped, he shrugged his shoulders and continued, "I've just never really seen the point. Or had anyone to drink _with _- I think that's the main thing. Why break a habit of a lifetime, right?" He gestured to Morty's glass. "But you're welcome to have whatever you like; I don't want you to feel like you have to stop yourself just because I don't drink."

"That's…"

"Boring?" Falkner supplied, his voice wry.

"Sensible," Morty firmly corrected. "I don't drink a lot myself - it's not great for the gift. Keeping the body clear and alert is important, or so they say." He shrugged. "A little amongst friends has never hurt, though. If you don't mind, that is; I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No, no - as I said, it's not a big deal." Falkner leaned back in his seat. "Could I just get an orange juice? If that's okay, that is." He looked a little awkward; as if Morty would say no.

"I'll be back in a second," Morty said, by way of an answer. He left for the bar, well aware of Falkner's eyes on his retreating back. There was something _appreciative _in the younger man's aura, Morty was sure of it; something that had nothing to do with the juice. He found himself subtly exaggerating the sway of his hips just a _little _more than necessary, and could feel the Violet Leader's focus on him even as he gave their order to the bartender.

It was weird, being wanted again. There had been many a time when he had been sure that _Suicune _did it for Eusine more than Morty ever could, particularly towards the end of their relationship, and Falkner's attention was flattering if nothing else. It said, _'There's nothing wrong with you, Morty'_, and Morty found himself welcoming it, grateful for it, if only for the fact that it was _Falkner _staring at him from across the room.

The Bird Trainer might not have been what could be considered to be traditionally handsome, but there was definitely something about him. Something that Morty hadn't exactly had much time to ponder, in between his own misplaced sense of fault and trying to figure out the enigma that was Eusine, but somehow it had worked out alright in the end.

Falkner's aura was more noticeable now, and when Morty turned, he found the blue-haired man standing directly behind him. Needless to say, he jumped. "Ah - uh, Falkner?" he stuttered out, confused when Falkner just smiled at him and leaned forward on the bar to address the smartly-dressed man behind it.

"Sorry about that - forget the orange juice. Two of whatever he's having, please," he said, gesturing towards Morty, who was still trying to regain his composure. The bartender nodded, and turned to take another glass from the shelf.

"I'd better not have corrupted you," said Morty, shaking his head. "And you gave me quite a fright there - sneaking up on me…"

"As I said, I've never had anyone to drink _with _before. Just the one won't hurt anything," Falkner said slyly, and then actually _grinned_, seemingly happy to be able to derail Morty's self-control just as Morty regularly did to him.

Morty threw him a sideways glance. "I hope this isn't peer pressure at work…?" he asked, not liking the idea of being directly responsible for anything Falkner would later go on to regret. "I couldn't live with myself if you threw away your morals just because I'm here." The bartender put the drinks in front of them, and Morty handed over the money.

"Nah." Falkner shook his head, and when the man turned away to get Morty's change, he continued, "I think… I'm just too set in my old ways. But let's face it - they haven't exactly been doing me much good this far. Maybe a few little changes are exactly what I need." He took a sip out of the glass in front of him, screwing his nose up at the taste. "Even if they are bitter."

"You'll get used to it," Morty laughed.

Falkner stuck out his tongue, now eyeing the offensive liquid distastefully. "I very much doubt that," he said, before Morty's laugh became infectious and the pair of them returned to their seats.


End file.
